Waltzing Marie
by jestervalaia
Summary: People presumed he'd gone down at Alcatraz, just like they presumed the cure was permenant. They couldn't be more wrong. Years later echoes from the past have started to scream again, seeking to wreak their vengance on the fragments. Post X3 AU Ryro
1. Chapter 1

It had been a number of years since Alcatraz and the world had changed beyond recognition. Since the apparent collapse of Magneto's brotherhood you'd think that peace reigned supreme, but it hadn't worked that way. Small pockets of resistance and those following the scheme of mutant superiority had survived, living under the order of Magneto's closest – Cain Marko, James Madrox and the Omega's – Callisto, Quill, Arclight and Psylocke. No trace of John Allerdyce had been found since the battle and he was to be presumed dead by most, mourned by few and easily forgotten by the masses. Such a shame; powerful, but so consumed by his own pain and hurt that he would never have let anyone in to guide him out of that blackness. No trust, no love and the only warmth came from his mutation.

It was no longer a shock to hear about clashes at anti-mutant rights rallies. Death tolls were much smaller than the likes of Stryker would have predicted, but they were still to high for some peoples liking. Those mutants who had taken the cure became angry when it started to wear off and they had sought answers – some joining the more violent paths, others joining the more peaceful options, such as Xaviers institute where young enough. The institute itself had expanded far beyond the original concept, opening a number of different centres across the states simply to accommodate the sheer volume of those wishing to join.

A lot of familiar faces had gone from the halls of the original institute; Kitty had gone to one of the other centres, Rogue had moved on entirely to seek her own independence, Logan still came and went as he pleased, Bobby went where ever he was needed, Peter had returned to Russia to help tame the violence that was rising there, Hank continued in his role as ambassador, and Angel...well, Warren was there when needed, but for the most part was allowed to do what ever it was he needed to. It left myself at the mansion for most of the time, watching over the new generation and only hoping that I could guide them as well as Charles had done.

There was a report or documentary of some sorts playing in the background of the Rec room, though none of the younger students were really paying attention to it. I was only meaning to pass through, but something caught my eye. Or more of, someone. Stepping into the room and turning up the volume, the familiar warmth of Logan appeared next to me as we became entranced by the image on the screen. Some of the newer, younger students were caught up in what we were doing and followed our line of sight, settling to watch what had caught our attention. The wouldn't recognise him, but the name just maybe familiar to a few of those who had better attention spans or better hearing than the others.

**~0~O~0~**

_Dark hair, darker eyes. They sat hunched over, clad in leather and cotton. So much hatred burning away, so lost in the momentary flames that died out. For those moments of silence all that filled the air was the click clack of a zippo lighter opening and closing._

"_Why did you get involved then?"_

"_Why not?"_

"_Didn't you realise it was wrong?"_

"_And it wasn't wrong to force the cure on us? Why was it even called a cure? There was no sickness in the first place, only superiority"_

"_So you believe mutants are superior?"_

_Silence descended again, only broken by the opening and closing of the lighter lid. They sighed, clenching their jaw for a minute, eyes darting here and there. They were trying to decide what to say. Frowning, the closed the lighter one last time, shifting their gaze to the camera and off-screen interviewer._

"_We are gods among insects, Alcatraz was a miscalculation to be blamed on the old man – he focused solely on number and didn't bother to train his rabble. Should've known they'd show up"_

"_Who are they? The other mutants who fought against you?"_

_He nodded his head, twirling the metal between his fingers. The camera panned out, catching the back of the interviewer's head. The place he was in was basic, clinical...cold. It lacked emotion, like the teenager on the seat. Tugging at a band around his neck in discomfort he held the lighter in his hand, fighting the urge to start playing with the flint again._

"_X-men. The very bane of my existence. Do-gooders who seek equality and peace. There will never be anything like that so long as we live in a world where there is as much class and division as there is equality and openness"_

"_Why do you say that?"_

"_Division and class lead to conflict, the familiarity that comes from the latter two breeds contempt and no good can come of contempt. It is in our nature to fight and survive. It's what we've done for millions of years, one generation cannot change that. It's survival of the fittest and the natural selection process seeks the strong"_

"_If these X-men are watching now, what would you say to them?"_

_Silence descended once again as they leant back in their seat, blowing blonde tips out of their eyes. Closing their eyes for a minute it would seem that they'd gone to sleep, but it wasn't so. They were still toying with that lighter, they couldn't be sleeping whilst playing with it, could they?_

"_John?"_

"_Don't ever call me that. Ever. John died a long time ago, Pyro is all that is left. And as for the X-men, I'm not sure. However, my message is for one Robert Drake. The flawless blonde haired, blue eyed, American boy scout with the perfect family, spotless record and rose-tinted world. It's very simple; fuck you. Soon as I get out of this dump I'm coming for you and I'm ready this time. Thanks for the frostbite though, maybe I'll have to burn your hands down to the bone and you can live through that agony. I still feel it, even after all these months, I can't shake the cold from them. They still hurt when I move them too quickly, they have a habit of cramping at awkward moments, they still freeze up. May well never be the same again – just one more flaw to add to my ever growing list"_

_He spoke with such contempt, eyes fixed on the hands he had been talking about. They did appear awkwardly placed. Fading out, the image was replaced with that of a similar looking man, but older and calmer. None of that hate burned in his eyes any more, just sadness and emotional pain. No leather, no shirts. Just loose yoga trousers. He was reclining into the same chair as all those years before, but still collared like an animal._

"_So, it's been a number of years since we last talked to you – what's happened since then?"_

"_I've been through a number of counsellors and courses, finished school, deal with stuff in my past...things have improved for me. I'm a changed man, I'm not the same angry, messed up kid that hated everyone and everything that you last spoke to"_

"_Changed for the better?"_

"_I hope so"_

_He laughed, not that manic laugh that usually spelt trouble, but it was gentle, warm and genuine. It rumbled through him as he shifted in his seat, still toying with his lighter. Sighing, he tilted his head back, only to snap it forward when asked a question._

"_So, are you ready to leave? What are your plans?"_

_"More than ready. I'm going back to New York, I've got a number of people I need to seek forgiveness from. Some of them are no longer able to give it, some of them may not want to...but for my sake I need to apologise. For my peace of mind"_

"_You made a threat to one Robert Drake...does that still stand?"_

_"No...provided he does not attack or provoke me we should manage to be civil at the very least. It may never be how it once was, but I hope I can go some way to repairing the damage I caused"_

"_How are your hands?"_

_He paused to look at them, turning them over from palm to back several times. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, trying to decide. His smile had faded, replaced by that lost sadness. With a sigh he sat back, running a hand through his now notably longer hair._

"_They still ache when they get too cold, but they don't cause me as much pain any more, nor do they tend to cramp these days. I've managed to get my wrists back to what they were before the frostbite but I don't think they'll ever completely be what they once were. Irreparable damage was done but I need to get used to it"_

_"It was nice to speak to you again, I hope I get to interview you again soon"_

_"Maybe you will and the feeling is very much mutual"_

**~0~O~0~**

"So the little firebug made it out of Alcatraz then"

Was that a question or a statement? It could be hard to define the difference with Logan. But yes, it would appear that John had got out of Alcatraz alive. He'd been looked after, but the calm exterior was so disquietening, so strange, so unlike him. He had never been that way - at least not at any time that any of them could remember. Either this was a genuine change, or he'd become very good at acting. Although, there was always the risk that he'd been drugged and brainwashed into that current state. Though the risk was small, it was ever present. It seemed that it was my turn to speak as no-one else had yet spoken.

"It would appear so. And his intentions are clear; he wishes to return"

"After so long, after all the damage, do we allow him to? Can we trust him?"

The voice was new but familiar. Stood at the door was, as John had dubbed him, the flawless blonde haired, blue eyed, American boy scout Robert Drake. More commonly referred to as either Bobby or Iceman. He was back from visiting Kitty who was out in Illinois, they would deny that anything was going on but anyone looking in would tell you differently. He seemed irritated by the appearance of his former rival on screen. Clearly there was still some left over anger in him - the ghosting frost over his hands was a dead give away. Turning my attention back to the screen, there was a different person now where John had been only moments before. She seemed just as young and angry but was unfamiliar. I wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, but instead thought about what was said.

"I say we trust him. He appears to have changed and now we need to change the way we've been thinking about him...we wronged him-"

"How. How exactly did we wrong him? Did we try to kill him? Did we betray him? Did we turn our back on him in the pursuit of a dream?"

"We didn't try hard enough to address his problems. We pushed for his control and his obedience. Yes, we betrayed him. He trusted us to help him in more way than we did. We turned our back on him because he joined Magneto. Different dreams Bobby, but still dreams. Whoever has changed him to this degree s the only person who ever did right by him other than the professor who did try to reach out...we let him fall away and gave up on him. If anyone is to blame for his change of heart it is us"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this - after all he did, you're still defending him?"

"If I don't then who will?"

It was a simple enough question - one he didn't like. Storming off, I looked over at Logan who shrugged his shoulders before going off after him. As it turned out the clip was just an advert for something that would be running for a number of months to come. I'd make a note to try and make time to watch it. If he were to turn up I'd like to know what he'd been doing for the last few years, simply so I had something to talk about with him if nothing else. Leaving the room, I wandered up to the office I'd taken over since Charles' passing. I needed time and space to think and then there was all that paper work that was waiting on me. Maybe I should be angry as well, but now given time to look back, I could see that we simply hadn't done enough to reach out to him. We may have thought at the time that we were trying...but hindsight is a wonderful thing.

**~0~O~0~**

It had been a number of years since the cure had worn off and around a year since gaining control of my skin. Bobby and me had split it off a while back and I was currently living on my own back in the south. I had a job, my cat, my own place. What more could I possibly want? Ok, so maybe a guy would be nice but it wasn't massively important. I'd been in a casual relationship or two, but nothing serious. They had been lacking a certain spark that I hadn't felt in a while - a spark I don't think I've ever felt, at least not in a boyfriend/girlfriend way. It'd been there with a couple of people - but they'd only ever been friends. Nope, time to stop thinking about that...time for my evening out.

So the white stripes were still around, but they had been cut much shorter, clinging in feathers around my face. The main bulk had been braided and filled out with ribbon, feathers and beads. I'd lived with a new age wanna-be hippie for a few months. They'd wanted to put dreadlocks in but I'd told them where to stick it. Fuck knows where they are now - just woke up to them being gone. Dropping the braids out of the bun was all my hair took anymore. Well, other than washing it that is. The clothes were already lain out, however the mewing reminded me that I had a cat to feed before doing anything else. Pressing the button on the stereo remote, I allowed the music on my iPod to fill the otherwise empty and silent apartment. Sometimes I hated this place - then again, I was hardly used to being on my own. There had always been someone with me up until recently. The last room mate had moved out to leave me on my own and so far no-one had moved in to replace them.

Picking the one bowl up off the floor and taking the meat from the fridge, I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose. Man, this stuff stank...I didn't get how the poor thing could bare to eat it. Then again, I wasn't a cat and didn't have to eat it, so it didn't really matter did it? Smiling, I placed the bowl back down and left the little black and white creature purring. Shaking my head I wandered back to my bedroom just to catch the beginnings of Aerosmith's _Taste of India. _I had to admit that this was a great song and one of my favourites to dance around and sing to Of course, that was reserved solely for when I was on my own. Only my cat would ever hear me sing and only my cat would ever get to see my dancing around the apartment in any level of undress. I suppose I was still just a little too shy to let anyone else know my guilty pleasures. I could never suject anyone else to my singing voice or awful dancing. OK, so I could dance in certain ways but for the most part I just couldn't.

**~0~O~0~**

Strobe lights and UV illuminated the neon and white make-up of the club dancers, the smoke floating around in the air, the flash of material and exposed flesh - it was filled with the sweating, living mass of bodies forming some monster, barely contained by the oh so exposed live band whose vocalist charged from one side of the stage to the other, pushing their luck and hardly there hold over the captive audience. The scent of leather filled the air, heavy with the thudding drive of bass lines and synthesisers, the screaming choruses and quieter melodies. This was a rush - dancing with strangers, teasing them, drinking the liquor shots off of their bodies only for them to return the favour. Poles and cages remained occupied by the bodies of underweight scantly-clad dancers, tattooed and pierced beyond what could be considered normal. Lace, leather and satin were all familiar to the touch nowadays...Logan would have a fit if he could see me at this current moment in time. Fair to say covering up was not something I did much of any more. I didn't see the point - hell, I had a damn good boody so why should I hide it away?

"Why would a beautiful young creature like you be on your own?"

"People don't like a woman who can beat them senseless"

"My friend would like your company...you'll need this"

I hadn't got a good look at the person talking to me, but they'd left a card with me and the curtains rustled - those curtains that seperated the private balconies from the masses. Now who up there would take an interest in me? See, this place had once been a factory but had been converted and there had been a number of attempts by older generations and cookie cutter chistians to get it closed down. All had gone to shit - there was too much support and the owner had half the local powers in their back pocket. Leaving my drink I followed in the general direction that I'd been pointed in to one of the top level rooms. The steps were tiring and metal rang out with each step. Maybe I was being stupid, but I could always knock the fucker out if he got too close for comfort or decided to not listen to me.

There was a door left open and the notably different music seeped through the opening. Was that Beethoven? In a night club? Why wasn't the live band reaching here? Shaking my head I entered the room, pausing to take in the scene. Glass coated the balcony, deadening the sound of the band, candles were the main source of light, despite the odd flash of strobe and club lighting coming over the balcony edge. The usual worn leather was replaced by satin seating, silk and netting fluttered in a draft - I wasn't sure where it was coming from - there was a shadow moving from a corner to look over at the scene below. The music faded as they sighed, tilting their head back slightly. Their far too pale hands gripped the metal rail, their head flopping forward once again. Dirty, dark blonde strands fell from the loose grasp of a hair tie. Shifting their weight from one leg to another they turned their head slightly.

"I didn't think you'd come"

I knew that voice. So long...it had been far too long since I'd last heard them. The song - Cry little sister - seemed so fitting. He'd always been more of a mischevious brother to me, forever getting into trouble over one thing or another. I'd missed him when he'd left - it was like part of me had gone with him and without him I would never be complete. After I heard about what happened at Alcatraz I thought he'd died, but maybe not.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"What I did was...unforgiveable, I see that now. I'm sorry"

"You got nothing to apologise for. The mansion...it failed you, like it failed me, like it failed Logan, Jean, Scott...anyone who ever walked away or died. I don't blame you. I never could"

He made that little noise that I could never remember the name for - some where between a laugh and a sigh. Turning around, he leant against the railing of the balcony and stared at his shoes for a moment. Wait, there were no shoes - he was staring at his feet. Walking over the various rugs to the seating, he poured two drinks, offering out the crystal to me and indicating that I should sit with him. I wasn't sure, but regardless I joined him. It was like a pull that I couldn't resist. The drink turned out to be wine - didn't have him down as such a classy individual. Nor did I think he could be so good looking. Leather was perfectly fitted to him, his shirt looked to be tailoered to his shape as well. He'd been a penniless kid just a few years ago and now he dressed and drank like someone on a 6 figue salary. What had he been doing with himself? As far as I was aware he hadn't even finished school. Or maybe he had and managed to get a decent job. I'd never doubted that he was perfectly intelligent and capable of whatever he put his mind to. Just his temper that got in his way.

"So, Rogue-"

"Marie...call me marie. I've not been Rogue in a while"

"Well then, Marie. Any plans for Christmas? See, things have been a little lonely for me and from watching you tonight it doesn't look like you have much company to speak of"

"Nothing really. Logan might come down, but it all depends. What are you doing with yourself these days?"

"Well, if he doesn't you could always join me...even if he does you should come any way. And as for me...I'm a novelist, journalist, song writer, art collector. Anything that takes my fancy. What about you?"

"What is that an invitation to? I work in an office. Not all that interesting"

"Nothing - I was hoping that we could catch up. I was a stupid fuck for walking away without an explanation. I heard about Scott and the others...I guess I should be sorry, but I don't really fell much over it except for the professor. He may have been misguided, but he tried harder than anyone else to reach me...he just didn't know how"

"You were never that close to any of them, I don't expect you to be sorry about the loss. After all, you're just that cold and unfeeling aren't you?"

Leaving the glass on a table I walked off, leaving him on his own. I was sure he called out my name, there were foot steps behind me suggesting that he was following me. Suddenly all I wanted was to be home and not be in the fake fur and lycra that I was. I felt too exposed - I hated how he still got to me, even after all this time. It was frustrating. John Allerdyce, the arrogant, wild, angry child that had become a cocky, cold, irritating man...admittedly he was rather more suave now and I didn't doubt for moment that he was one of those womanisers who just had to look at a girl to get them to drop their panties and lay down for him. I hated him so much...and yet I pitied him. I wanted to know more about his last few years, I wanted to know why he was so hateful and twisted up. How could you not want to reach out to someone so lost? How was it that the memory of him looking at other peoples family portraits with such envy, only equaled by his longing still remained so strong after all these years? What had happened to him in his home to make him hurt so much?

Why did I just want to turn around and go back to him?

* * *

Rogue's club outfit: http : // ravegear . com . au / coming-soon / images / rave-outfits . png

John's club outfit: http : // ae . img . v4 . skyrock . net / ae1 / deiphobe / pics / 1596791530 . jpg

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; charcters, clothing, songs. None of them are mine.**

**Please review - I know there is already a fair amount of good Ryro out there, but I wanted to try writing my own. Can you please let me know what you think. This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Storm_**

Ever since that advert had been on I'd not had a single moments peace - calls, emails and fly by visits had become strangely predictable. Every single one of them from former students who had known John as just that. And those who had suffered at the hands of Pyro, inadvertently or otherwise. Kitty and Bobby had turned up but had not yet left. They were waiting for news from our various sources in an attempt to track him down. For me, I wanted to know just how sincere he had been but for Bobby...that resentment and rivalry still simmered underneath the exterior. As for Kitty, well what Bobby wanted, she wanted although she'd never admit it. Not even my office was sacred any more. I think I'd been in here for around half an hour and I already had a visitor. One I had never expected to see, but they were here regardless.

"Haven't you found him yet?"

"Why so concerned?"

"Ororo, my dear, I had and still have a vested interest in the young man"

"You mean he hasn't been in touch with you? Erik, I thought you would have been the first person he turned to"

"If only that were so. Now, why are you looking for him?"

"Curiosity I suppose. I'd like to know just how much he's changed"

"Don't you mean how much of it is an act"

A voice from someone stood at the door. Blonde hair dropped into those clod blue eyes; so much anger...so strange coming from someone who was usually so open and calm. It felt like some how there had been an overnight personality transplant between the younger John and the current Bobby. The steel haired individual sat opposite me smiled, not bothering to turn to se who was speaking. They remembered the persons voice very well.

"Ah, good morning Robert"

"Whats he doing here?"

"Magneto is-"

"Ms Monroe, please. I've not been Magneto for a while, call me Erik. In regards as to why I am here...I was wondering whether or not you'd found out where our mutual friend is"

"John is no friend of mine"

"No, but he once was I would say he still holds part of your heart"

"Of course he does. Us and the brotherhood just _love_ to play friendly"

"Sarcasm does not become you young friend" A soft chuckle and he rose to leave, casting a look in my direction. "Call me when you hear anything - you have my contact details. I bid you a good day before any more of our former acquaintances awake and take a dislike to my presence"

It still was a shock to see him looking so normal. It would appear that despite having regained control of his powers, Erik had given up on his plan for mutant domination, claiming he was now too old and those few still involved with the mutant superiority cause he simply could not and would not trust. They were an untrained rabble who had never heard the words discipline or hard work in their lives, much less understood them. It was part of the reason I was so reluctant to let him know when we tracked down John. _If_ we tracked down John. He'd hidden his tracks very well and so far I'd drawn a blank. It had been two weeks of near sleepless nights and over shadowed celebrations in the run up to Christmas, thankfully it'd missed Thanksgiving by a few days. The snow lay thick and I could see it out of one of the windows.

It reminded me of what John had said. The cold made his hands ache, another imperfection. The John I knew hated being considered imperfect as much as he hated the cold. When he first arrived at the institute it was winter and he refused to leave his bedroom. Instead he sat on his bed, playing with his lighter and keeping himself warm. He wasn't the only one who had a dislike for the cold, but he was the only one who went out of his way to avoid it. Of course, we didn't know what he was doing or if he was even in the country any more. He hadn't used his mutation yet so we couldn't track him through that...it was like he didn't want to be found although he'd said that he wanted forgiveness so surely he would have come to the mansion?

"Any news?"

"No, nothing yet. I'll let you know if I hear anything"

"Kitty's going back to Illinois, I'm going with her. You can contact me there"

He left the room, brushing past Logan as he left. Watching him for a moment, the Canadian seemed to be considering the behaviour of the younger man. He'd voiced his opinions on this before now, stating how he felt it was a case of left over rivalry. It had been playful whilst they were both within the mansion, but it had been growing increasingly competitive and whether or not John had joined the brotherhood it would have grown into the violence that we'd seen at Alcatraz. Maybe that was the case and this was little more than residual - something that John had outgrown and got over, but Bobby hadn't. If he was ever going to get over it was still unclear. Sitting down, there was the soft crack of an apple being bitten into - it was hanging off of his claws (for lack of a better word) once again. I'd given him the lecture time and again about abusing his power and setting the right example, but every time he just shrugged it off and continued on his way in his own manner.

"Any news?"

"No, not yet. Someone mentioned something about a possible sighting further south but it turned up blank"

"Why pursue him? He don't want to be found then don't look. He'll come in his own time"

"Maybe you're right. We'll stop, at least until after Christmas. Will you be with us or Marie this year?"

"I've invited her up here, but she may chose to stay in the south"

"Yes, she's grown very attached to the Southern hospitality and warmth that even I cannot mirror for her. Besides, I wouldn't want to take away the white Christmas for everyone else, would I?"

"I don't think you would, besides it'd just give the current generation of Stryker's another reason to hate us"

"Did you see last nights section of the documentary?"

"No, I was working on my bike"

"When are you not? Here, it's on this USB key. Watch it when you get the chance will you? It explains what he's been doing for the last few years"

**~0~O~0~**

**_Wolverine_**

Daylight had pretty much become a luxury over the last few weeks - but that was what winter did. I'd worked on my bike for as long as possible, but there just wasn't anything left to do to it. Out of sheer frustration and lack of anything else to do I'd gone to start on the other vehicles only to find that they'd been covered already. Someone must have been caught out of the building post-curfew. What more did I have to do? Well, there was that documentary with the little Firebug on that I felt obliged to watch. What else did I have to do and what did I have to lose from watching it? I already knew he hadn't killed - or severely maimed - anyone because there wouldn't have been that clip of them relesing him at the end of the last section. They probably would've had him locked away, never to see the light of day again.

As much as I wanted to be angry with him for tearing Rogue's heart out, abandoning us, causing all that destruction and chaos I just couldn't. I couldn't do anything other than have respect for him. He was a freedom fighter and a survior. I didn't really want any harm to come to him, unless is was by my hand and that would solely be for dealing the damage he'd done to the institutes Southern Belle, beyond that you had to respect the little firebug. He was stronger than anyone would have given him credit for. Misguided and lost prehaps, hot headed, stubborn, infuriating, angry, foolish at times...but still strong with so much unlocked potential.

The institute was surprisingly quiet - no-one seemed to be awake; I couldn't hear the whisper of voices, the shuffle of feet or electrionic buzz of appliaces such as the television or one of the computers. There was no click of cue and ball as there had been whilst the firebug was still around. He'd play pool late at night by himself. I'd never tried to get involved - if he'd even noticed me was a mystery. He was always so fixated on the game. It seemed to be the only thing to keep him quiet and calm other than fire. Or one of the early morning lectures. He'd slept through so many of those (or completely fazed out) I think everyone gave up on reminding him about them and handed him the work later on. He wasn't a morning person - nights and evenings he seemingly lived for - especially the summer when the sun would still be ruling his favourite hours.

Sitting down in part of the library, I took in the rare moments of silence. No doubt they'd be hard to come across again so long as I stayed here. The glow of a computer powering itself up was the only source of light, casting eerie shadows over the little crevices and gaps of the different books and shelves scattered around. Someone had left their homework behind before going to bed - only half finished. Should I have expected anything more? Opening the file, I sat down and leant back still unsure of what to expect from whatever this was. Reality show? Documentary? Did anyone really care? It offered an insight into the minds of a number of young mutants. Seeing as mutants were the current hot topic, I didn't doubt that this would be watched by enough pople for them to not catagorise it.

**~0~O~0~**

_The room was as bare as the week before, but this time there were a number of people sat on the seats and beanbags. The only person on their own was a figure stood to one side, toying with their lighter once again, but this time he was without the leather jacket he'd been seen in previously and his hair was no longer slicked back but instead left to hang in his face and further irritate him. No-one was speaking or making an eye contact with anyone else - the whole scene felt uncomfortable. Someone else entered the room - the sound of a door closing off screen and slight shake of the camera gave that much away._

_"Good morning residents. How are we all today? Still not talking? Don't worry, you all will eventually. Now, what are we going to do today?"_

_"Nothing you haven't planned for us"_

_"Did you say something John? Why don't you share how you're feeling with us?"_

_"Don't call me John. I'm not John, and don't start that how are you crap with me. Every one of us knows it's an act - you don't give a shit. No-one cares so long as the mutie freaks are kept under lock and key"_

_"Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone might just be genuinly interested in you?"_

_"You mean interested in my power? All the government wants is for you to do is keep us like animals in a zoo where we can be watched by the general populace for their prime time entertainment"_

_"Now you know that isn't true John. You know we're here because we want to be here, and the cameras are for our protection"_

_"What danger are you in when you have us collared and our power neutralised? We're no more dangerous than the average person walking down the street"_

_"Even the average person can be a danger when cornered"_

_"And that's why you have those shiny needles and liquid sedatives, it keeps us in line. Break us and then mould us into harmless little nobodies so we can blend in with everyone else. You don't want a society of individuals, you want cities of sheep that will jump when you snap your fingers. Like ripping the wings off a butterfly - take away their beauty and leave them grey"_

_"You know John, you're quite intelligent really - why don't you put that to some use?"_

_"I told you not to call me John. I'm not John, how many times do I have to say that?"_

_He'd left his little corner and was stood over the young woman. She looked out of place in her sharp pressed trouser suit (inconveniently a blinding white) and oh so sensible black flat shoes with her hair in it's place, clearly kept down with half a tin or so of hair spray. It was a stark contrast to the scruffily dressed youngster before them. Torn jeans that didn't look like they'd been washed in weeks, his hair thick and dull with grease that remained on any skin it touched, some bland t-shirt worn thin and greying with age. Despite the overall poor appearance he still intimidated her, but it was little more than a staring contest. Sitting down on the floor at the feet of a number of equally angry young mutants, he continued to watch the speaker with a degree of disdain._

_"Now if you've finished we have a lot to get through today. Each of you know who you have to see and when - until then you'll be free to do as you will provided you remain in the house. Apart from you, you'll remain in your room until you are needed"_

_Noise - far too much of it and all complaints over his treatment. They were claiming he was being treated like a child throwing a tantrum and how they had no right to do as they did. The shouts fell on deaf ears as those dressed in equally white clothes walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them. Fading out of the living room scene, it was replaced by an office - all steel and glass. Cold, modern and clinical. Just like the person sat behind the desk. The only splash of colour in the room was a spider plant sat on the desk and strip of black that was most likely a pen. Everything else was either white, wood or steel. Leaning back in their seat, having listened to the question posed to them, they steepled their fingers and closed their eyes as if thinking._

_"John is probably the most difficult resident we have at the moment. He refuses to co-operate and is often violent towards staff members and the others living in the unit. We've identified that he has some very major anger management issues and is, in the opinion of those professionals who have seen him, borderline depressed, notable mood swings, insomniac, psychotic. All point to a high probability that he suffers with Dissociative Identity disorder. Potentially a very dangerous individual if he continues to remain untreated. I'm shocked that whoever has been caring for him so far has not taken note of it"_

_"How do you plan to deal with this?"_

_"Medicate, counselling...whatever we can. At the moment I wouldn't even contemplate allowing him into the general populace - he's a danger not only to those around him, but also to himself"_

**~0~O~0~**

**_Wolverine_**

Simply put I couldn't watch any more of this. John was not crazy, just a little angry and stubborn. He was a typical teenage boy who had a few issues but he was average. Bitch painted him as some mindless sociopath. I couldn't stand professionals and she was the perfect example of why. If he'd been so dangerous then why had Xavier allowed him to stay in the institute and roam as freely as he did? Maybe he'd had some sort of block on the alternate personality (or personalities) in a similar fashion to that of Jean and the Phoenix that had simply worn down leading to his defection to the brotherhood. One potential theory, but I still preferred my original theory that she was a crazy bitch who hated mutants.

The insomnia I probably should have noticed - not matter what time of day or night it was he was either wandering around or playing with that lighter. It was more noticeable at night because that rest of the students were asleep and it left the constant small of lighter fluid floating around. I never really spoke to him at night, then again he didn't really register anything - he walked around in a daze, not really taking anything in and letting it wash over him. I thought he was ignoring me at first, then I thought he was sleep-walking...but what if it had been an alternate personality? Was it possible that we hadn't really been trying to reach him? What if's were all well and good, but it did not help in any way to look back and wonder what could have been.

He'd hated the cold so why would he be so far north during the winter? He had to be further south - some of the deep south states. Places that rarely saw snow. Texas? No, he didn't know anyone in Texas...however, Louisiana and Mississippi were another matter. New Orleans prehaps - seemed right for him. However, he could have gone after Marie - he'd have to track her down first. It was more likely that he'd taken to New Orleans as his temporary bolt hole. Easy money (equally easy women if he was anything like a typical hot blooded male), he could disappear into the crowd easily enough, accomodation wouldn't be hard for him to come across. It was perfect for a temporary home.

I probably should have told Ororo that I was leaving, but I wasn't even aware of it until I was out of the gates and a good 20 miles from the institute. I'd call her when I stopped, they were used to this by now.

**~0~O~0~**

**_Rogue_**

"Mornin' Marie. Oh, you got a surprise waiting at your desk"

"Thanks...what is it?"

"I ain't sayin'...heavy night?"

"Guess you could say that, though not usual kinda heavy"

"How much did ya drink?"

"Couple of shots, glass of wine. Ran into an old face, stirred some stuff I'd rather not think about"

"Ouch...catch up at lunch? Works piling up for me, dunno about you though"

"Can do, come get me when you're ready"

That was the one thing about being the office mutant - I got breaks whenever I wanted. No-one was going to argue with me. But unfortunately they also tended to keep me at arms length. Well, all apart from a few of the other girls working on the same floor as me. For some reason they looked up to me - probably had something to do with flipping one guy on his back when he grabbed my ass. They'd all begged me to teach them and naturally I'd obliged. If being that way won me friendship and respect, then why shouldn't I exploit it? No, exploit was the wrong word. I couldn't think of a positive way of wording it, but it was a positive thing. Strange how the English language worked out that way.

Sitting on my desk was a plain box. Off white box and deep blue bow, or antique white and brandeis blue as those interior designers would say. There was an envelope attached to the bow. Nothing all that special - plain enough. White paper, black ink and a large cursive script coated the front. Placing the envelope to one side and sliding the top off, I found one of those annoying levels of tissue paper that was the same colour as the box. Pushing the paper to one side, underneath was a flower wreath. and list of the different flowers and wood used; Lavender, French Marigold, Morning Glory, Tamarisk, Winter cherry, Garden Anemone, Colchicum, Fraxinella, Fumitory and Yew. None of them really meant anything to me, but the burst of colours didn't really flow. I had a feeling that they were picked for their meanings rather than the way they looked. Placing the lid back on the top, I slid the box under my desk where it was safe and opened the envelope. It was one of those hand written notes that usually got sent out with an order from a florist, but there was no traders mark or logo to give away where it had come from.

_Marie_

_Take this and the wreath as part of my aplogy if I offended you last night. However, I would like to do so in person. How does dinner at Elixir around 7 sound?_

_Feel free to look into the meaning of the flowers, though I doubt it would make much sense unless it was explained it to you. However, I may do so someday._

_Until later, _

Arrogant prick! Did he honestly think he could simply demand my evenings? I'd never come across someone more irritating, and I knew a lot of irritating people. He was so up himself that he thought he could just snap his fingers and I'd come running? No. That wasn't how it worked. I was tempted to track his number down and tell him where to stick the damn wreath and dinner. The other item - the _this_- was a giftcard to one of the more...upmarket clothing stores. That could go back as well. Did he think he could simply buy my forgiveness? I hated him.

"Hey Marie...what did you get there?"

"Apology from some guy that pissed me off. He hasn't changed much since I last saw him - only difference is he has money now"

"Can I see?"

She didn't wait for my answer but instead she reached over and took the note from the desk. I'd ended up throwing it down in frustration. Her eyes visibly widened at the name and held back a squeal, looking over at me. The name obviously meant something to her although I didn't get why. Was he really that good at what he did? Passing her the list of flowers used in the wreath, she scribbled something down on the paper next to each of the words before passing it back, clearly busting to say something.

"What is it?"

"Allerdyce? As in _the_John Allerdyce? Novelist, art collector, 7 bedroom house with a 6 car garage packed with the latest sports models, built on 12 arces of grounds John Allerdyce?"

"Maybe...he really that good?"

"Wrote the last three years bestsellers, got a couple of million from the first book alone. Guy's rolling in it, if he's offering then take it. I would"

"I'm not that sort of girl"

"Did I say you were. Strange wreath though - not a very happy one. Check it out...I need to go talk to that guy on fifth. I'm this close to getting a date"

"Shameless flirt"

She didn't reply but winked at me over her shoulder as she walked away, toying with her shirt as she went. It was a little lower, boosting her cleavage and hugging her hips that little bit more. She really was shameless, but it was one of the reasons I enjoyed her company so much. Pulling the card over I glanced at the notes she'd made and found my brow creasing up in slight confusion. _Lavender - Distrust, French Marigold - Jealousy, Morning Glory - Instability, Tamarisk - Crime, Winter Cherry - Deception, Garden Anemone - Forsaken, Colchicum - My best days are past, Fraxinella - Fire, Fumitory - Hatred, Yew - Sorrow. _So that was confusing. None of it really made sense. Especially the Colchium and Yew. Now, did I take that date and the card? Hell, why not? If he was gonna throw money at me then why shouldn't I take advantage of it...take advantage of him. Lead him on and drop him in the dirt when I got bored of playing him for a fool.

He dropped us - the x-men - so he deserved the same treatment. An X-men dropping him without a moments notice or single reason.

* * *

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; charcters, clothing, songs. None of them are mine.**

**Please review - I know there is already a fair amount of good Ryro out there, but I wanted to try writing my own. Can you please let me know what you think. This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am looking for a beta, however I'm not 100% sure how it works so it would also be nice if someone could explain it to me.**

**This is the website I've used for the flower meanings: http : // www . languageofflowers . com / flowermeaning . htm**

**parris411 - My GCSE English teacher was never a fan, so it's nice to hear someone comment positivly on my style. He always insisted that I never put in enough detail. And I did plan to put the different points of view in but I suppose it must have slipped my mind at the last moment. I promise we'll all be finding out what he's been through. To be honest, I'm not yet 100% sure myself but it'll come to me, it usually does.**

**Crazy4horses - As above, I promise that you'll find out about the last few years, and my version of his childhood, throughout the story, but I don't intend for it to come flowing out easily. I don't plan to have him opening up for a good ten chapters or so and even then I don't plan for it to be an entirely comfortable affair.**

**dulcesweet - Well, I can't have her being the ice queen, can I now? That's Emma Frost's role.**

**Rageful Jewel - Yeah, part of the reason I wrote him being so calm is because of the number of fics with him giving into his anger far too easily. The anger is not gone completely, but it hasn't been replaced either, I don't want to give away too much so I won't say anything more on the matter.**

**hotbritt5000 - Thank-you so much, I don't think anyone has ever said that to me**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Bobby_**

"Bobby? Storm called...Wolverine's taken off again. She said to call if he dropped by here on his way to where ever it is he's going"

Kitty would only be letting me know, but could she not do this some other time? She may not be concerned with trying to find John but I was. He couldn't be the calm collected creature he'd portrayed himself as. I _knew_ John - it was an act. He'd never been anything other than the jealous, angry, causeless rebel that so many people had loved to wind up...or fallen for. That bad boy image had every girls attention and all he had to do was toy with that lighter to have them melting at his feet in little puddles. I knew what he was like underneath, hell I shared a room with him. At 15 he still sucked his thumb in his sleep, still cried when he thought no-one was around...I swear he even wet the bed at one point. Despite acting like he didn't give a damn he was _always _had that little twitch and tone to his voice that suggested he was second guessing himself. He wasn't the heartless Pyro of the brotherhood he tried to be. No, as much as he wanted to be strong he wasn't and never would be. His weakness led him to lash out and trying to hurt other people was the only way he knew. People like John simply didn't change.

"Bobby, did you hear me?"

"Yes, call Storm if Logan turns up. Got it"

"Are you still obsessing over this whole John thing?"

"He's dangerous"

She sighed - she was getting irritated over it but I had to know. It wasn't safe to allow him to be out in the general human populace. He'd been difficult enough when there had been people around strong enough to keep him calm...or restrain him if the need was great enough. Towards the end the professor had been demanding he go through some sort of therapy. At least, that's what I assumed it was. They'd spent two or three hours a week looked away in one of the spare class rooms. No-one ever disturbed them, the professor explicitly said that unless it was a case of life and death (or invasion) they were to be left alone. At the end, both would leave slightly subdued, but John would keep that silence and compliance all through the rest of the day, through Sunday and part of Monday morning. He never really managed more than three or four word sentences. If you'd asked him to jump he wouldn't even ask how high, he would have just jumped and hoped it was high enough. When those sessions started, the staff of the institute seemed to become more lenient with his outbursts and would let him leave instead of demanding he remained in the class. No-one spoke of those last few months, at least in regards to the sessions, but those who had been teaching at the time wouldn't divulge what ever it was that had been spoken about. What ever had happened would die with the last of them unless John chose to speak about what ever he'd been through with the professor.

"If he was dangerous then they wouldn't have let him out of that unit he's been at since Alcatraz. Besides, if he was that dangerous wouldn't he have done something by now? In the three months he's been out there hasn't been one even remotely dangerous or inexplicable fire. He hasn't been seen at any of the mutant rights rallies and from what you've said he hasn't even been in touch with Magneto. I really think he's changed and you need to accept that"

"People like John don't change. You don't know him like I did - I shared a room with him"

"And did he ever open up to you? What do you know about what he's been through? Nothing. You know how I know? Because **_I'm_** the **_only _**one, other than the professor and Jubilee, that he**_ chose_** to open up to. Unless you have some secret mind control or telepathy mutation that you haven't said anything about then you won't know the first thing. He didn't ever completely trust you and I think I'm beginning to see why he was so wary of you"

"Yeah, course he would open up to you and how he got you wrapped around his little finger. After all, you did sleep with him"

There was the sound of a crack hanging in the air - for a little person, Kitty could really hurt. The sting of her hand over my face was a surprise. I don't know why she was protesting - everyone had known it. All that time they spent together, those little looks, the occasions when he'd find her hand and they thought no-one could see.

"I didn't sleep with him. See, if he'd said anything to you then you'd know that...that he isn't like that. He's not the man whore people painted him as. Y'know what...just forget it. You wouldn't understand and I don't expect you to open your mind long enough to even contemplate the real John. You just don't understand the reasons behind his actions"

Slamming the door behind her, she left me on my own once again. I didn't know what to make of her outburst, so maybe I had been a little harsh in my judgement but everyone had just assumed that their time spent together had been something. I still wasn't 100% certain that all they'd done was talk. I mean, _'talk'_ could be like a code for something. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. Yes, I was sure they'd done a damn sight more than talk - why else would she have been so tolerant of his behaviour? Why else would she (and Jubilation for that matter) fawn over him so much? He'd most definitely slept with Jubilation Lee on at least one occasion. I wish I hadn't walked in on that...especially when she asked if I wanted to join in. She wasn't the good little girl she'd been painted as. Respectful yes, intelligent most certainly...but certainly not white as snow.

Anyway, that was another matter. Currently I was trying to concentrate on the screen in front of me. I knew that there would be a class in here to teach soo enough and I really should be preparing for that, but I'd found some sort of website, almost shrine like in it's set up, dedicated to John. Pictures, video clips, interviews, extracts from books and articles he'd apparently written. It was almost disturbing. But only almost - should I have expected anything less from him though? He always did get any attention he wanted.

**~0~O~0~**

**_Dr Moira MacTaggart_**

"No, I refuse to have any part of it"

"Dr Mactaggart. Will you please just listen to reason-"

"You mean madness. I said no, I have enough work as it is and do not need any more. Besides, I work exclusively for the Government of the United Kingdom. I do not envision myself working with the American Government in the near future. I've tried it before and we simply cannot work together. Now will you please leave, I do have work to do and if I don't keep to a schedule that I will fall behind and I won't get caught up for weeks"

Picking up my clipboard, I left the room without waiting for the 'guests' to leave before myself. I consider myself a polite woman, but it riles me when someone can't seem to understand the word no. I'd seen this woman's 'work' and wanted no part of it. Yes, I had enough as it was but when one current project came to an end I know they'd be back and pushing me to get involved with what they had in mind despite them knowing that I wanted no part of it. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd turned them down, but I had to give these Americans one thing - they were persistent if nothing else.

"Good morning, how are we today?"

It was a familiar room by now. The 'brain-dead' patient, all those machines, the deadly silence. It had been like this for years by now and I was keen for things to change soon. I had a feeling they would do and the change would be a shock to many people.

_I am well Moira, I see you're reluctant as ever to work with outside agencies_

"You know, it can be difficult to work with the unreceptive - especially when they're work ethic is so radically different"

_How so?_

"You see, I feel that there shouldn't be all the issues that there are. The British...in fact, Northern Europe as a whole, have taken everything in it's stride and got on well enough with the resident mutants through the moral teachings of acceptance, tolerance and patience. However, my dear American counterparts feel the need to register and control their mutants which in no way encourages the individualisation of their current younger generation. It maybe too late for so much of their older generations but I don't see why there are so many difficulties with the teenagers, young adults and children"

_Passionate as ever about mutant rights I see_

"I myself may not be a mutant, but I don't see why they should be treated any different. I was watching this documentary last night - a good friend sent me a link to it and I'm surprised at the approach they took. Placing them in a secure unit, watching them every moment of every day. I recognised one of them. A different friend, a very good friend whom I have known for years, sent me his profile. I may be a geneticist, but I have a little experience in psychology and psychiatric evaluation...any way, this person. Young lad, John if I recall his name correctly, had been placed in this unit following that conflict I told you about at Alcatraz. Now, although he is quite a troubled individual they'd somehow come to the conclusion that he had this condition called Dissociative Identity disorder, or multiple personality disorder, whichever you prefer. I just don't see how they got that so no doubt they now have him up to the eyeballs in unnecessary medication that is nothing but detriment to his health"

_John Allerdyce? I do have to agree with you Moira. Distressed, but most certainly not disturbed. At least not when I knew him. Perhaps I could at the very least listen to this documentary?_

"You know, you seem to respond better to vocal stimulation than instrumental...and you must be getting tired of Beethoven by now. Maybe I'll download and bring in this documentary. I think it will do you more good than anything else I could provide at the moment. Well, until tomorrow goodbye"

I was getting tired of having to speak like I was talking to myself and he would know that, just that he wasn't yet in control enough to try and 'wake-up' the patient. it was a long and difficult process from what he had mentioned in the past and I would have liked to stay a while longer and make it look like there was more progress than there had been but I just couldn't, although I'd go back later and continue talking to the patient.

**~0~O~0~**

**_Flashback_**

_"John"_

_"Sorry"_

_Sighing, Storm returned to teaching her class. Truth was she was getting very tired of John's behaviour. She had no doubt that he just wasn't sleeping any more. He wouldn't talk and it was rare to see him at lunch any more. When he did turn up he tended to stare into space and pick at his food, that or purposely wind up someone and cause a fight to break out in which he would take great delight in joining in with, or stoking to the point where either blood would spill or it would get dangerously close to being spilt. Then his behaviour in class - if he had his lighter he didn't concentrate and would play with it through out the lesson. However, if he didn't have it he would grow increasingly agitated and disrupt the class further._

_This time it was a fire fly - literally. She'd left the class for literally two minutes but when she got back there was an over sized fly sitting on his bare desk. Perfectly formed, but far too big. At the sound of my voice it faded and left with a small wisp of harmless smoke. Not nearly enough to set the fire alarms off, but enough to irritate those sat around him. All apart from a number of girls who clearly thought he could do no wrong. She'd speak to the professor at the end but for now she had a class to teach and hopefully she could get him to at least sit through it, even if he didn't take anything in she would feel like she had accomplished something with just getting him to stay. _

_It had been like this when he first arrived. No, it'd been worse. A scared 13 year old that wouldn't let anyone near him and refused point blank to speak to anyone. It took them weeks to convince him that no-one was going to hurt him - in those weeks he hardly ate and when he did it was late at night when he thought everyone was sleeping. He'd slip into the kitchen and see what he could find. He wouldn't talk about what he had been through and it took his wounds becoming infected before he would allow anyone to deal with his burns. Now, just two years on all that hard work seemed to be unravelling at an alarming rate. His eyes were lifeless and heavy with black bags, his skin washed out and far too pale, bones starting to jut from the sheer amount of weight he'd lost in such a short space of time - it was painful just to look at him. The last thing she wanted was for them to have to force his hand bu if he didn't modify his behaviour soon there was no telling what could happen._

_Thankfully the lesson did go without a hitch, but that was mostly because John somehow managed to fall asleep. It was easier to let him sleep - he needed the sleep instead of another lecture. Smiling, she slipped that nearly too small jacket off the back of his chair and over his shoulders. He'd grown so much in the last two years...hard to believe that he looked like he was drowning in it when he first arrived. Closing the door behind her, she knew she'd have to come back and wake him for lunch. She really shouldn't have let him sleep - Scott wouldn't be happy about him missing another lesson, but it was better he slept than tried to stay awake through someone elses lesson. Scott would forgive him. Eventually. Slipping into the professor's office, she was surprised to see a young person that she was not familiar with._

_"Ah, Storm. How are you - this is Bobby, he'll be joining us at the school"_

_"It's nice to meet you Bobby. Oh, professor I need to talk to you-"_

_"About John, I know. You're not the only member of staff with growing concerns. We will talk about this as soon as we can. Right now I think we need to introduce Bobby to the rest of the student body. Maybe you could show him to Scott's class and then go see how John is"_

_"Of course Charles. Come Bobby, Scott isn't a fan of people arriving late to his lessons"_

_In all honesty she would rather get back to John. She'd always had a soft spot for him. Ever since he had been tracked down to the corner of that little warehouse he's sealed his place in both her's and Jean's hearts. He'd been so small and far too underweight to be safe that it just added to the child like feel he had. There had been something in his eyes though - all that fear and hate. It shouldn't have been present in one so young. It was the utter fear and almost neediness that had been so endearing. For the first week he hardly left his room and hardly spoke more than two words at a time. As he grew in confidence it got to the point where you can't get him to stay quiet for more than quarter of an hour, apart from when he was sleeping or eating. He also became slightly cocky, cutting lessons every now and again. Leaving Bobby with Scott she walked back to her classroom where John was still sleeping - or at least that was how it looked. He was slumped over on the desk, hair hiding his face and jacket slipping from his shoulders as if he'd shifted in his sleep and it had fallen._

_"He looks peaceful, doesn't he?"_

_"For once, if only he could be like this all the time"_

_"It's not in his nature Ororo, he wouldn't be John if he was this calm and peaceful all the time"_

_"Don't you wish he was though? After all, Jean, it would be far easier on us if he was"_

_"Life isn't fair or easy, especially not for us and I doubt he's had a gentle ride. He just has that air about him"_

_He sighed in his sleep, moving his head from one side to the other - the skin was a shade of bright red where it'd been pressed against his arm for the duration of his sleep. Other than that he didn't stir but returned to his bout of rest. Both let out a small sigh of relief, it should seem strange that they were relieved to have a student sleeping through classes but this was no normal school and they were no normal teachers. The door behind them opened and the professor entered the room, met by the sight of the sleeping John. Shaking his head, he smiled and looked over at the two women._

_"Maybe we should leave him, at least until lunch. I think he should be the one Bobby shadows for the first few days, or until he gets used to the school's layout and it's set up"_

_"Are you sure? John tends to keep a...strange schedule. Bobby would be better off with Peter"_

_"No, I think the responsibility would be good for him. Besides, I think they're more likely to get on than Bobby would with Peter"_

_"Should I wake him?"_

_"No, wait until lunch. He needs the rest"_

_"I'll stay, you do what you need to Jean. I'll be fine with him"_

_With a smile, both the red head telepath and the professor left her with a sleeping John. When he woke up his hair would be sticking in far too many different directions to be anything other than comical. It'd happened just once before when she'd woken him up at the end of one of her lessons, along with a half-asleep expression and sleepy questioning and the hair it took all her willpower not to join in with the small smattering of laughter. Until he woke up she sat watering her plants and marking essays. It seemed like the perfect time - he'd missed his mornings lessons, but he could be forgiven for it. She only realised he was awake when the clicking started again. It was that damn zippo again - honestly, it was like the only time he stopped playing with it was when he was asleep. He still looked like he was only half awake and placed the zippo down long enough to rub his eyes, yawn, stretch and ruffle his hair. The jacket hit the floor and he clearly heard it well enough to look over at it. Weighing up the options, he took a moment to decide that he was going to pick it up and shrug it back on._

_"Good afternoon John. Would you like to join us for lunch?"_

_"Mmm? Yeah, yeah. I guess"_

_Five words - this weeks record. Standing up, he shoved the zippo in his jeans pocket and left the room just after me. There was still a slight glaze to his eyes and slump in his stance suggesting that he was still halfway between being fully awake and drifting back to sleep if he lay his head down for long enough. There was noise from the dining room and it turned out that they were almost late. Waiting until he sat down, Storm finally seated herself within earshot of his interaction with Bobby. It proved to be an interesting conversation...or as close to interesting as a half asleep teen could manage to make something. Kitty was there to break the ice otherwise things probably wouldn't have gotten anywhere_

_"Hey John...finally decided to join us?"_

_He shrugged, staring at his drink - he was choosing not to eat again. Why was something he would not explain, but he went through bouts of just not eating and hardly sleeping. They had been getting shorter in length and fewer in number in the last two years, but it was still unclear as to why he did it._

_"Hey grumpy guts...smile for me? Oh...this is Bobby. Bobby, this is John. Don't be too shocked if he doesn't talk John's just like that but he's great any ways"_

_His lighter was out again. Maybe Kitty wasn't such a great idea - she did tend to talk and John had proven to be irritable shortly after waking up. The click of the lighter didn't seem to put off the newcomer though who tried to look like he didn't find the behaviour strange. So John wasn't normal...who was? He had his little quirks and the zippo was one of them. Why he was so attached to it was a mystery but the institute would probably feel empty with out it and the sound of it clicking through the hallways. He forced out a sarcastic smile and looked over at the newcomer Bobby._

_"Afternoon Bobby"_

_"So you do speak? I got the impression that you;re completely anti-social"_

_"I only take to a certain kind of person"_

_"Would you say I'm that kind of person?"_

_"Dunno, we'll have to see"_

_"You should hope so, apparently we're sharing a room"_

_The clicking stopped and he looked over at the newcomer with a certain degree of hate. If there was one thing John hated it was having to be around someone all the time. No-one wanted to tell him that Bobby was going to be shadowing him if that was his reaction to something as small as sharing a room._

**~0~O~0~**

**_Bobby_**

"Do you remember the first time you met John?"

"Yeah...he was a git"

"No...he was just tired"

"He hated me"

"He didn't hate you - he hated the sudden changes that came with anyone new. You just so happened to be imposed on him"

"Jubes...D'you think- forget it"

"What is it?"

"Do you think he's really changed...or is it all an act?"

"That documentary thing? I saw flashes of that every once in a while so I think he had the ability to change. But I don't think he was unstable like they were trying to paint him as. Not John, he couldn't be unstable - there was always method behind his madness"

"So he's really changed? But why didn't he come to us? Why can't we track him down?"

"In my opinion...it's likely he's changed. I think he's avoiding us because he's most likely ashamed. Put yourself in his shoes, think about how he must be feeling. Now, I think you should find Kitty and apologise - she's hurt by your earlier comments"

Even after all these years, she still had that bright yellow coat. No-one had the heart to tell her that she looked ridiculous in it - if she had a slightly different cut then just maybe she'd get away with it, but not at the moment. Not in the shapeless child's style she had. Although I didn't get why I should be the one apologising, she did provoke me after all. If she hadn't have brought up the whole obsession thing again. I was not obsessed with finding John - just concerned. Despite what everyone else was saying I couldn't quite shake the feeling that he wasn't as safe as they thought. I knew if John did one thing it was hold grudges and he _never_ forgot who and why. I'd screwed over his hands (or so he said) and there was no way he was going to let me get away with that. However, I knew Jubilee was right - I knew I'd hurt her and really should apologise but there was that stupid pride again.

Sighing, I left the room and searched through the rooms. Pausing at one classroom I found her coming to the end of a lesson. She glanced over at me and it was clear to see she was still angry with me and truthfully I didn't blame her. However, I couldn't leave without doing as I had planned for the rush of students to pass, the scrape of chairs and hiss of zippers closing on bags. She stood behind her desk watching me, even as the door slammed shut.

"How can I help you?"

"Kitty I wanted to apologise. I was out of order"

"Yes you were. At least you can see that this time"

"Christ, I come here to say sorry and you bite my head off. What do you want me to do?"

"Leave John alone. If he wants to speak to any of us then he'll find us. If you keep chasing him he'll freak and thats when he'll flip and hurt someone or something"

"Fine. I, Robert Drake, swear to leave one John Allerdyce be until such a time as he directly approaches myself"

"Good...now, I have another lesson to get ready for - as do you. C'mon"

There was no way I was leaving this. I could promise her one thing, but he was one person I was willing to break my word for. She slipped through the door - something I'd never got used to - before me, leaving me in an empty room for the second time that day. No, as hell was I leaving this be. I just couldn't trust him out in public, I'd just have to be more careful in my search for him.

* * *

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**34 hits but only one review on the last chapter? Oh my...well, I've tried to improve with this chapter so if you read it, could you please try harder to review it? Espcieally if you've got it on alert - it's nice to know you take notice of it and want to read the updates, but just reading it doesn't get reviews. The more reviews I get, the quicker I update.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am looking for a beta, however I'm not 100% sure how it works so it would also be nice if someone could explain it to me.**

**I'm assuming that people saw the clip at the end of x-3, if not go look for it, but those of you who have seen it will know that although the professor isn't the professor any more, he isn't dead and has a host body of sorts - the braindead guy that was seen in the video from Moira Mactaggart. Also, I know this chapter may seem a little pointless at the moment but it'll work in with later chapters.**

**parris411 - ****Thank-you and I was a little surprised at just how much I enjoyed writing Logan...normally I find him just a tiny bit too creepy. Unfortunately we won't be seeing much of Logan (or Storm, or the institute in general, for that matter) for another 5 or 6 chapters, same goes for John's past - it's going to purely be about his (John's) pursuit of her (Marie) for at least 5 chapters, well apart from this one.**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Rogue_**

"Wait, so lemme ge' dis righ'. Dis guy Jean-"

"John"

"Whatever, so he run out on de unit-"

"School"

"Je suis désolé, school...an' de people dat are mean' t' be lookin after you all, den he works for dat terrorist responsible f' Alcatraz, he blows some stuff, y' lose track of him an he turns up, out of de blue at y' favourite club, finds where y' work, sends y' a gift certificate an' asks y' on a date"

"Pretty much...does it sound completely insane if I even thought about going?"

"Sounds almos' stalker, I don' trus' em. Y' gonna do it?"

"What've I got to lose? Besides, I think I should listen to him - I ignored him often enough in the past and he seems pretty sincere about trying to make it up to me"

"Suppose y' should spend his money den, he deserve it"

"Surely that doesn't feel like a task?"

"Non, why you say dat?

"The sigh, the tone of your voice, the slump in your shoulders"

"No, he jus' sounds a little weird, even f' y'"

"Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special"

"Je t'aime. Y' know dat Marie"

"Yeah, I know Alfie. Help me then"

"O' course Sha. Y' ready?"

"Gimme thirty seconds"

Was I actually doing this? Was I actually about to go with my favourite Cajun in the whole world (Alfie had moved from Louisiana a couple of weeks ago and had wormed his way into my heart very quickly) and by a dress to go on a date with a guy I hadn't seen for more than 5 minutes in what had to be going on 6 or 7 years now. Insane. I had to be completely and utterly insane, it was the only explanation as to why I was going. There were a thousand things more worthy than me to spend money on. Especially the amount he had thrown my way. After all, what did I ever do to deserve it? Well, I got control of my skin which was damn well difficult enough. But beyond that, all I'd done was hurt and abandon him. Yet, he was willing to spend his hard earned money on me when I'd walked out on him. Again. Shaking the concept from my head, I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my bag before scurrying over to the still open lift. I still wasn't sure about this - which is one of the reasons I'd asked Alfie to come along. He had no qualms when it came to spending money. Oh, that and he knew what I suited better than I did.

He was waiting at the entrance for me - to see him in something smart was unusual. I was used to the flamboyant ruffles, sequins and Lycra. Not forgetting the out of this world make-up and scarves. Yeah, Alfie is a real fairy, but I still think he's one of the greatest friends I ever have had and ever will have. Typically, he was a little more excited than me about this little excursion. I hated shopping so his enthusiasm was going to have to make up for my lack of it. Grabbing my hand when he spotted me, he dragged me out of the building and into the first taxi he saw. Where he was taking me I didn't know, but the driver seemed to know. Damn Alfie and his shopping habit. Of course, his empty chatter made it far easier to concentrate on something other than the interior of this taxi. It didn't feel like it'd been cleaned since it was brought. It was grimy, it's smell was similar to that of sour milk...or a weeks trash from the institute. The windows were coated in smears from greasy fingers and sticky thumbs. I couldn't wait to get out of it.

"Sha, c'mon. Y' day dreamin 'gain"

Apparently the taxi had stopped without me noticing. Taking his hand, I stood up and straightened my clothes whilst he made short work of getting rid of the taxi driver. Clearly he didn't like the interior or the driver any more than I did. Slipping an arm around my waist, he guided me down streets and into shops I'd normally avoid like the plague, purely because the staff were so snooty and tended to look down on you if you weren't coated in nothing but designer labels. Oh, and you tended to pay through the nose for this stuff.

"Alfie, you sure?"

"He give y' money and tell y' t' spend it, so we spend it. Why should y' no' do so here?"

He had a point. Raising an eyebrow he waited for a reply...one which came in the form of a sigh. Shrugging my shoulders, he smiled and rifled through the rows of dresses, picking out christ knows how many different colours and designs. Half of them I put back; he may know what would possibly look good on me, but he didn't know what I liked. For one thing, I hated velvet about as much as I hated yellow. Velvet was just irritating and yellow was horrific on me. I tried to stop him...or at least slow him down but he just wasn't listening. I felt like I was a toy to him he pushed and pulled me in so many directions. Changing was hell...practically every dress he shook his head at and put me behind the curtain again.

"Dis de last one?"

"Yeah...if you don't like it, I don't care"

"Dat nice?"

"Yeah...I think it is"

"C'mon den, need t' see it"

Pushing the curtain back, he frowned for a moment before toying around with the front and skirt. Nodding, and at long last a smile broke over his face. It would seem that he was more of a hit and miss guy. I think he was more lucky than anything else when it came to clothes; shoes and accessories he certainly did rule and I'd go to him any time I needed help, but from now on I and I alone would pick my clothes.

"Y' makin' him suffer girl?"

"I wasn't planning on...d'you think I will?"

"Bien entendu. How any straigh' man could resis is a mystery t' moi"

"Thank-you Alfie. You'll make someone a very happy man one day"

"I can bu' dream sweet Marie. Dis Cajun see all his filles bein' snatched away, leavin' him alone on de shelf"

"You won't stay on the shelf forever. Everyone gets their turn at some point"

"What bout your hair? Shoes? Nails? Ma cher, dere is still much t' do"

"I am not goin' over board. There is nothing wrong with what I have at home"

"Nom de Dieu. Difficul' petit. Fine, I allow y' dis. Bu' nex time y' get a date, we's goin' t'do tings my way"

"Good, I wouldn't have it any other way"

Closing the curtain behind me, he took the dress and left me to change back into work clothes. Part of me really didn't want to go back to work. They'd spot the dress and not leave me alone, then they'd try to find out where and when the date was (I still wasn't even sure if it was a date or an apology dinner), turn up and spy on me. They'd all want to see the dress, they'd want to know all about John (yeah, he's a mutant terrorist that was at Alcartaz but he's now a stupidly successful entrepreneur). Half of them would freak out and tell me how bad an idea it was. The other half would be jealous that plain old Marie got lucky and I'd have to watch my back (and the dress) like a hawk for the rest of the day. Hell, what choice did I have? I couldn't skip work, I needed the money and people already thought I was getting an easy ride as the office mutant. If I skipped the rest of the day then it would serve to only strengthen that belief. Sometimes it sucked to be me. I suppose the positive spin was that I was getting a free meal and all I had to do was turn up, listen to him witter on for a bit and act polite. I was determined to not get pulled in by the sweet and innocent act he had going. Yes, I made that judgement on reputation alone, but I knew John. He took a very long time and 6 years just wasn't enough...even if he had been brainwashed. He was just too hard headed and short fused to change...unless he was being controlled with one of those chips rom all the fantasy-. No, stop there. Now I'm just getting paranoid. As hell could the government control us...unless there was something in the cure. No, that's just silly. I'd been reading and listening to way too many conspiracy theories. I was thinking too much - again, I didn't notice when the taxi stopped (in fact, I barely recall getting in one). I didn't really come to until I stepped into the lift and needed to press the button for my floor. Alfie had thrust the dress (in one of those opaque black dust covers. Thank god, I could say it was a friends suit I'd picked up for them) and left me when we stopped at his floor. He did, however, offer a small smile - whether sympathy or moral support I wasn't sure.

"Hey, Marie - call for you...you goin to meet him then?"

"John? Why not, haven't been out in a while. Where's the call from?"

"Dunno. You might want to take it though. Make it short, sounds personal"

"Christ...fine"

I had told everyone I knew not to contact me at work and until now it'd been followed. So who was breaking the rule? I was very tempted to slap them on the upside of the head when I next saw them. Hooking the dress to the cubicle wall, I picked up the handset and took to my seat, twirling it round slightly before answering.

"Marie, how may I help?"

"Didn't think you'd answer. You heard from Pyro kid?"

"Why?"

"We're looking for him. Can't seem to pin him down any where. If he tries to get in touch, ignore him. We're not too sure how stable he is"

"Who would we be then?"

"Myself, Storm, Bobby...even Magneto's been kicking off about not being able to find him"

"Maybe he wanted a new start like I did. Maybe there's a reason he doesn't want to be found. Y'know, trying to escape ghosts of the past, start over and all that"

"Look, just avoid him if he does get in touch with you"

"Fine. Goodbye. I have work"

I wasn't going to wait for an answer. Placing the phone down with a slight huff, I cast a look over to the dress before slamming the picture frame face down on my desk. It'd been taken on the day I left. Everyone but John was in it. Everyone that mattered at least, but it was never complete - it had never felt right after John left. The institute felt empty without his quicksilver tongue and stinging wit. Every joke felt a little more empty and classes were that little more boring. He wasn't around to set off fire alarms in the most of boring lessons and cause chaos the second the person leading a class had to leave the room. Even after I had said life and death contact only they were still trying to control me. As hell was I telling them he'd been in touch and it'd driven me to stop considering whether or not I should go. I was going - I could always hold his hand if he got a little out of control. The person I had seen was far from unstable. He'd been calm, cool and collected. Why should I care who was looking for him? Hell, I'm a grown woman I can make my own choices...mistakes if that's what it turned out to be. It could turn out to be the best decision of my life yet.

"Who's pissed you off?"

"Pseudo-daddy"

"The built like a redwood Canadian?"

"One and the same"

"Who you goin to see tonight then?"

"Old friend. Not seen him in years. He's really changed from what he and other people have said"

"What's he called?"

"John Allerdyce. I haven't seen him in what has to be 6 if not 7 years"

"Well, good for you. You deserve a break for once. He's a writer isn't he?"

"Novelist, journalist, art dealer, song writer, general B-list celebrity...or so I've been told"

"How do you know him?"

"We were at the Xavier institute at the same time, he left and made a couple of bad choices but he swears he's changed"

"Just you be careful with him then, okay? I don't want the morning news to contain something about you being found in a ditch"

"I promise I'll be careful to the point of paranoia. I just need to get through the day for now"

The person speaking to me - a lovely older woman, a bit of the motherly type - smiled and wandered off to her little corner of the office. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should be a little more careful than I had been planning to be. Shaking my head, I smiled to myself, reopened my account an tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of me. Yep, this was going to be a very long afternoon.

**_~0~O~0~_**

**_John_**

The day had been tedious to say the least. The one thing I disliked about my current career path was the meetings and contracts. How difficult was it to just let me write in my own time? Why put dates in place when I didn't need them? Why limit the number of pages and books in a series? They couldn't just let me write, could they? I had never enjoyed having a legal restriction, however the money made up for it. I know, it makes me sound shallow but money equalled status and power in the modern world. Subconsciously, I scratched the crook of my elbow before rolling the sleeves of my shirt up and running a hand through my hair. I could have someone in to do this decorating for me but it wouldn't feel like home then. When I was writing or sleeping I was usually in one of the unfinished rooms, roller in hand and old clothes splattered in paint or gloss. It was paint at the moment. A very pale gold - almost like they'd tipped a tester tub of gold into a normal sized tub of white and mixed it up. However, you could still tell which colour it was meant to be. In the morning the edging would come off the walls and ceiling, the plastic would come off the floor and I'd start moving furniture in. It wasprobably the only time anyone came in to help. It was literally the furniture though. All fixtures and any customising I would do myself. I needed it to feel like a home. Each room had a personality, but it still flowed through from room to room. For example, this room was mainly red and gold but the furniture would mostly be cast iron (which was one of the reasons I needed help with getting it in) or mahogany. The colour of the furniture and paint grew lighter the further away from this room you got - one bedroom at the opposite end of the house was mostly silver and white.

"Sir? You have a visitor"

"Who is it?"

"A one Cain Marko. Shall I let him in?"

Sighing, I placed the roller down and wiped still wet fleck of paint from my hands. How the hell had he found me? No-one else had yet.

"Yes, he'll probably wreck the house if I don't. Tell him I'll be down soon enough"

Great, just as I though I was going to spend some time doing...well, nothing really someone crashes the party. Dropping the shirt in the middle of the room (hey, I need to leave the cleaner something to do, right?) and shutting the door behind me, I slipped on the shirt I'd left outside. It was nothing special; a little over sized, then again most of my clothes were, a non-descript white, typical work style. Pausing on the stairs, I restrained the sigh as I heard the very clear English accent. Stepping into the room, they looked over at me. They had hardly changed, a little more clothed perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary. Still with that shaved head and those combat boots were still kicking around, but the jeans and t-shirt was a change. Sitting down opposite him I waited for the curious staff member to leave before speaking.

"Nice place. How have you been?"

"Drop the casual chatter Cain. Why're you here?"

"_She _sent me. What am I meant to do?"

"What does she want?"

"Revenge, just like we know you want it"

"Revenge for what?"

"Don't play games. You know what. Everyone in the brotherhood knows what that damn unit did to you. They'll all follow your lead"

"All that unit did was show me how wrong I was"

"Really? Why no fire then? If that was all they did then why don't you-"

"You really think you know everything, don't you? No fire, no temptation that simple. I don't want any part of the brotherhood, not any more"

"You've become weak. What happened to you Pyro?"

"I'm not Pyro. Pyro was an alternate personality that was a danger not only to those around me, but also to myself. I suggest you leave. Tell her that I'm not interested and she's not to approach me, nor is she to send anyone to me again"

"Of course. I hope you have a good evening"

Rising as he stood, he went one way and I went the other. Shutting the door behind me, I let the sound of the car disappear before moving away from the door. Why now? They could have gotten to me before...There was no point dwelling on what has already happened. Picking up the nearest object, I threw it across the room, listening to that satisfying crunch as it impacted against the wall. It wasn't enough though. There was old furniture in here for a reason; I didn't mind shattering this. Swinging one chair across the room, it cracked against the boarded-up window, however much to my disappointment it didn't break. That rage was building - the same rage that had been there before the unit, the rage the drove me away from the institute, away from the closest thing to family that I'd had in years. They'd had drugs and teams at the unit to control it for me, but not here. Here all I had was a room full of smashed up furniture and breakable objects. I couldn't contain it, it would have to spill over for once or else it would consume me.

I didn't bother to keep a track of time of what was broken. But by the end I was back in my usual spot - a corner, surrounded by the damaged and broken. For the first time in years I found myself scared. Of what I couldn't say, but something. That something was enough to drive me to tears. I should be ashamed to say it, but I wasn't. To actually be able to crt and have no-one around to judge me for it was a relief. A polite knock on the door roused me from that little ball and drew me to the door. Opening it slightly, it was the one remaining member of staff for that day. The driver had turned up with what was potentially the latest purchase.

Shutting the door behind me, I wandered through to the front and paused to look at it. Tilting my head to one side, I couldn't help but sigh. This simply wouldn't do. No, it was no good. True, it was beautiful, what with those deep, luxurious colours, strong, clean lines and the way the light caught it was all perfect...but there was something that just wasn't sitting right with me. Looking over at the dealer, I shook my head and slipped my jacket off before handing it over to the one remaining member of household staff waiting with me. No, it just wasn't right. I couldn't tell you why, it just wasn't. I couldn't even bring myself to test drive it.

"Mr Allerdyce?"

"I'm sorry, something just doesn't feel right"

"No need to worry, I'll see what else we have that can be ordered in and we'll contact you at the usual time"

I hated that fake smile they plastered over their face when they replied. Ever since that damned documentary had started showing people had been treading on eggshells around me. If anything would make me snap, it was people acting like I was going to burn them to a crisp at the drop of a hat. Even that woman I had round to keep the house in order had started to distance herself. She'd known me for years, she knew exactly what I was like and yet she was acting like the strangers who crossed to the other side of the street just to get past me. They'd learn soon enough just how dangerous I really was. I did enjoy the sound of that motor purring as it pulled away. I'd been told that it was a dream to drive, but it just wasn't what I was looking for. I wasn't sure what I wanted but it wasn't that.

Turning around, I entered the house again, accepting the out held coat from...well, essentially the butler, but I hated that word with a passion. It was plain enough, almost military in style, but still lightweight enough to not burden me in the heat of mid-summer and yet still warm enough to fend of the growing bite of winter. It wouldn't be enough to bring back that ache completely, but enough to make it harder to write over the coming few months. Pushing the edges of trapped hair from the collar, I turned to pull the cuffs and buttons in place in front of the hallway mirror.

"Will you be out this evening, sir?"

"Yes, and I won't be back until late. You may lock up and leave after me"

"Thank-you sir"

I had little doubt that he was leaking small bits and pieces of my personal life to the media, however I wouldn't do anything about it for a number of reasons. For one, I'd have a hard time replacing him, especially at the moment. Two, he was keeping my name in current media which kept up the book sales. Three, paparazzi would get more and more tempted and I'd already sworn that I would sue any one who invaded my privacy which would happen eventually. Finally, I think part of me enjoyed the attention and flattery that came from hearing my name pop up every once in a while. Picking up the keys and my cell, I cast a last look around the now empty hallway before shutting the door and sending the house into the depths of growing blackness as the night encroached ever further. This time of day was my favourite - though the cold grew, the warmth of the sun pushed it's way into your bones, reminding you of it's dominance for so many hours in the 24 hour cycle known as a day. It was an invading warmth that stayed within you through out those deep, dark hours that went without the benefit of the direct sunlight when the world slept.

Slipping into the car, I paused for a moment convinced that I'd forgotten something. Of course, it was an insane concept, I didn't forget anything. I'd been through the usual subconscious list before locking the door. Cellphone, keys, card and cheque book were rarely out of reach and they were definitely in reach tonight - I could feel my wallet and book in the usual inside coat pocket. The only employee left in the house would set the alarm when they left, and if he forgot there was always the CCTV...and the German Shepherd to ward off intruders. The dog had been fed before the car dealer had turned up. Windows were shut, doors were locked - all save the back entrance which would be locked when the alarms were set. What else could I do? There was nothing that came to mind, so I forced myself to shake off that feeling like I'd forgotten something, or someone was watching me. I was just being paranoid. The purr of the engine calmed me down...well, it was a touch more of a roar. Koenigsegg ccxr- the most environmentally friendly super car worldwide. Or at least it had been when I brought it, I wasn't sure so much these days - things were moving a little too fast to keep up with. I'd always preferred European manufacturers to American and I didn't fully know why. Yes, both sides of the Atlantic had their faults, but there was just something about Europe's cars that dragged me to them. But when it came to motorcycles it was either Japanese or the 80's Harleys. I didn't know much about bike's...or at least, not as much as I did about cars but I was one of those people that knew what they liked. I liked the finesse and understated elegance of European cars and I'd take it over the flair and showboating of the American sports car any day. Maybe that was it - maybe it was just how inconspicuous they were in comparison to their American counterparts.

* * *

_Sha - Louisiana Cajun and Creole slang, derived from the French Cher; term of affection meaning darling, dear, or sweetheart._

_Je t'aime - I love you_

_Je suis désolé - I'm sorry_

_Bien entendu - Of course_

_Moi - me_

_Filles - girls_

_Nom de Dieu - name of God/jesus christ_

_Petit - Child/small_

_Lift - this maybe the same, but I think it's more commonly called an elevator in american english_

**_Rouge's dress:_**

_Dress - http : // www . simplydresses . com /shop/viewitem-PD491174_

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**40 hits and 3 reviews on the last chapter. An improvement. However, there are 8 people who have this on alert so there still could be more reviews. The more reviews I get, the quicker I update. My apologies for taking so long to update - job search has kept me busy. I also apologise if the cajun accent isn't quite right, I tried but accent's aren't my strong point.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading, or (for the french) a poor translation. I am still looking for a beta.**

**crazy4horses - Yes, yes they do speak far louder than words. I completely agree. Thank-you for reviewing, it's always appreciated. Especially from a writer such as yourself. **

**parris411 - I was slightly shocked to. I thought it was pretty good - however, I am biased thus making my opinion on the subject null and void. Yes, lots of love for the tiny Kitty cat. I waited all three movies for someone to slap Bobby and did I get that slap? Nope. So, in protest I've written one in and there will be many more to come from many more people. And I can also promise that it will take far more than a simple slap to knock some sense into him. **

**Ratdogtwo - Will do if you keep up the reviews.**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Rogue_**

One of the numerous things I hated was the possibility of being stood up. I got here at seven. Did he? No. Half an hour I was sat there on my own, picking at that random little complementary bread basket and sipping at some nameless white wine. I don't even like white wine. Red yes, but not white. I just wanted him to turn up or call and tell me he was running late. This was bound to be some big wind up. There would be cameras scattered around, watching me and he'd be sat on the other end at a computer monitor laughing at me all on my own. I just knew it had been too good to be true. Why the hell would any one take notice of me? I was just the little office mutant that only ever got sympathy dates and occasional one night stands. No-one took an interest in me. Never had and never would. No-one other than Bobby and even he hadn't been completely with the programme. He honestly didn't think I knew about him and Kitty. He'd accused me of being paranoid, told me to calm down. I'd told him where he could stick his accusations of paranoia and hysteria. It'd been the straw to break the camel's back. I'd worked my ass off after that to find somewhere out of the institute so I could get as far away from him and his northern bitterness as I could.

As I thought back on it, I started to question if I'd ever really felt anything for him. He didn't have the passion and intensity I would've normally looked for. Maybe it was because he was one of the only ones to show me any attention. The others being Jubilee, Logan...and John. I shut down after he left and pulled back after Alcatraz. I was angry at the time - I hated Bobby for leaving him behind when he could have dragged him back to the institute, even if he had been kicking and screaming. I would've talked him down and it could've been the three of us again. John with his cocky attitude and almost uncouth actions that would so easily land us in trouble, Bobby there to keep him from going too far and myself to stop them for tearing each other to pieces. We three musketeers. That was how it started, but John left. For a while after Alcatraz I thought he had died and for that reason he was probably the most like Athos. Bobby always did love a challenge but at the same time (and more recently) I was coming to an understanding of just how deceitful and manipulative he could be. He could have the title of Aramis. It left me Porthos, during those years when we were together I would agree. I'd changed since then though, I wasn't gullible any more.

"Marie? I'm sorry I'm late, I had a last minute visitor that refused to leave"

"What was the visit about?"

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure. Turned up, rambled and left. I think they wanted my endorsement for one thing or another. I don't tend to pay attention to that sort of stuff, gets messy when you try to pull out"

"Speaking from experience?"

"Other peoples...I'd never get in to it, said that from the moment people knew my name. Well, a charity would change my mind but that's about it"

It seemed strange just how at home and relaxed he was in the presence of complete strangers. Then again, he'd always been the more confident, more people orientated of us three. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he was so at ease. There was a vague difference to him, but I couldn't quite place a finger on what had changed and I wasn't going to invade his privacy by asking him anything further. Another thing I hated was awkward silences (nor did he if I recalled correctly). I tended to ramble just to fill it but I couldn't bring myself to find anything to ramble about. The problem was simple; we were worlds apart and I didn't know how I was supposed to relate to him. He lived a relaxed life where he was free to do as he would and I was stuck in an office. I'd spent years at an institute by my own choice learning to control my mutation, where as he...well, the less said about Alcatraz and the surrounding years the better. I was almost ashamed to admit that I was grateful for the waiters interference when he took the orders. Sipping at the drink, I took a moment to look at the person that had been the lost boy that left all those years ago. He'd filled out and refined, he'd always been so skinny and scruffy...not to mention that crappy posture he'd had. Always slumped one way or the other. He still slumped now, but it wasn't as bad. It seemed silly to be so picky about his posture, but it'd always irritated me for some reason. I suppose it had matched that cavalier, devil may care attitude he'd adopted. I'd always suspected that deep down he really wasn't like that and it was all a front, but a front for what was a mystery.

"So, what is this exactly? An apology, date, catch up?"

"Any of the three, all of them if you want"

"Ever the charmer, aren't you?"

"For you, my dear, I could be anything you want"

"Do you know how creepy that sounds?"

"Very, probably. I suppose I always did come across a little extreme"

"Actually, you were usually more aloof and some how very intense at the same time"

"And you came across as someone scared of the world. Desperate to reach out but unable to"

"I guess my mutation kinda put a stopper on that one. By the way, how did you get hold of where I work so quickly?"

"Freedom of information. You'd be surprised what you can get a hold of using it"

"You're not going to go stalker on me are you?"

"No, that's not my intention"

He chuckled, placing his glass down. His eyes seemed to light up for the first time in a while...at least from what I could recall. That spark had only ever been there when he was causing trouble or planning to. It was nice in here - he hadn't burnt the place down, despite the flickering candles dotted around the room. He didn't seem to want to look at them, letting his gaze slide over the little source of power. He seemed almost uncomfortable around them. Rubbing his hands together as he would do if he was stood in the cold without gloves on, he shrugged and sipped at his glass again.

"I know you said you worked in an office, but what exactly do you do?"

It was his turn to question me apparently. Flickering from candle to my face he chewed lightly on his bottom lip. I felt like he was reverting to the skittish boy he'd been before leaving the insititute, especially before he'd started those sessions with the professor. He'd never divulged what went on in those meetings and I had a feeling he never would. At least not to me. If he didn't trust me enough then I wasn't going to bother him about it.

"I work in the administration depertment of a book publishers and illustators. I'd like to move to the creativedepartment, but I'm not considered talented or skilled enough. Some of them are really bad and yet I'm not good enough. I don't get it...I'll learn to live with it though. You mentioned that you're a novelist, what is it exactly that you write?"

"Anything that takes my fancy, fantasy mostly...I tried reviving the gothic genre but that's not a one man task. It got slammed by a lot of critics but for some reason people keep buying it"

"Like Twilight then"

"Marie, are you not a fan of Ms Meyers?"

"Not really. Bella is a non-character and horrific role model. Edward...well, the less said about Edward the better. Jacob was fine...until the kid came along. Meyer's doesn't know how to use grammar correctly, nor can she decide on what spelling she wants to use. Then the sparkling vampires? Dear god, it's a smear on the classical vampire. Her anti-abortion stance is ridiculous. She could have saved it by having a battle between the Cullen's and the Volturi but instead she had them talk. I mean; Vampires. Talking? No, just no. There are massive plot holes and it's filled with cliches the whole way through. It's just a horrible, horrible series"

"I'll take your very long winded answer as a no then, shall I?"

This was more like the John I knew...well, remembered. Light hearted and so full of assumptions and sarcasm. Leaning back in his seat, he glanced over my shoulder again. He seemed to be looking at something or someone. There was no-one behind us, just an empty seat with a sole candle left burning. There was a look of almost longing in his eyes, like all he wanted to do was reach out and play with the flame as he had done so often over the years. It was as if it was taking all his concentration to not act on some unspoken impulse. He didn't even notice as the food was put down in front of him. His gaze broke and dragged it's way back to mine after several minutes of silence.

"Are you OK?"

"Hmm? I'm fine. By the way, I never did mention but I think you look wonderful tonight Marie. Red suits you"

"I'm glad you think so. You don't look too bad yourself...better than the weedy lookin' kid that left the institute"

"Was that a compliment from the ice queen herself? Why, maybe the firebug isn't quite so powerless after all"

"You're a charmer and you know it John. It's what makes you special"

"Charmer? No. I prefer gentleman. A woman deserves to feel like they're at their most perfect at any time of the day. Too many women worry about their weight, their hair or their clothes and they forget what's really important"

"What would that be?"

"Their heart and soul. Someone could be voted the most attractive woman in the world, but if they're unhappy then it's just meaningless words and an empty title. Women are...women are creation, without them no-one would be here. They're the closest thing to Physis or Gaia we'll ever get and we men should be honoured to have you among us. Women can do pretty much anything men can do whilst in heels and bleeding"

"You kinda ruined it with the bleeding bit, but other than that it was ever so slightly beatiful. Who was Physis?"

"One of the Greek protogenoi. A minor goddess...the personification of nature and creation. She was before Gaia, but people are more familiar with Gaia. Little is known of Physis and she has unfortunately faded into obscurity"

"Y'know, for an implsive, irritating little hot head you're pretty bright"

"I think I'll take that as a compliment...unless it was meant otherwise"

"No, it was meant to be a compliment"

His smile was back - something I was glad of. That distracted look was beginning to drive me crazy. Then again, I suppose it was a better option the the prospect of having him leer down the dress like so many others would have done. The evening passed in a polite haze of conversation and quiet laughter. It reminded me of the good times and the gaping hole he left when he walked away the first time. As much as I didn't want to admit it, the idea of him doing that again was almost too much. I found my words and laughter to be at their most sincere in recent years. Was it all because of him? Was this sudden lightness down to him...or the numerous glasses of wine I'd managed to tip back over the course of the evening in an attempt to calm my nerves. I was very tempted to go for the latter. Of course, deep down, we both knew what was coming at the end of the evening.

"John...why did you leave?"

"Honestly? I don't really remember. I think I felt at ease and accepted around Magneto. However, at the institute there were so many rules and expectations that I found myself struggling to keep up with them. I wasn't comfortable...especially when they started rooming me with Bobby"

"Why?"

"I like my privacy, it just didn't feel right having someone I hardly knew sleeping in the same room as me"

"You got that with Magneto?"

"Yeah, I ranked pretty highly and people gave me a safety circle. Almost no-one wanted to sleep within ten foot of me. Meant I usually had to sleep a short distance from the rest of those following but I got used to it fairly quickly. After a few weeks it wasn't such a big deal"

It would seem that the conversation was over and judging by the slowly diminishing number of people in the restaurant, so was the evening. He'd fallen silent again, scratching at the crook of his arm. He'd done that several times already this evening and to be honest it was starting to bug me. Paying for the meal, he dropped his coat over my shoulders and guided me out to his car. Well, he'd been right about one thing; he was most certainly a gentleman. He sealed that judgement by opening the passenger door before going round to his own side and climbing in.

**_John_**

Being around those candles had been a painful reminder of the past. Little taunting smiles hidden in those flickering sparks. A ghosting memory of the bitter cold chased it's way through the bones and ligaments of wrists and hands, seeking to run deep through blood and to the core of who I was. It wasn't just the physical cold that made me shiver, but an emotional coldness - a _hatred_ for the cause of the cold. My grip was slipping on the present, it was increasingly tempting to go back to that unit. I hated it there, but at least it was safer than trying to fight the overwhelming surge of my past by myself. I felt safe with their needles and drugs on hand for when they needed it. I didn't want to admit it, but I needed them. I needed the safety they offered; the blankness of a drug induced stupor, the collar that gave me the control I craved, the security in numbers...it was familiar and I think that was possibly what I was craving. There were other people, other places I could go to for that familiarity but they wouldn't give me the quick fix I wanted.

"So, how do I get back to your place?"

"You must be joking"

"You're in my car and I'm not letting you walk home. I'll drop you off and leave"

"Fine, but I'm holding you to your word and if you're not telling me the truth I'll hold it against you"

"Feel free to"

"Take the next right"

She slumped back in her seat, giving up the argument and instead occasionally broke the near silence with directions. There was no point trying to play music, it just wouldn't be heard over the sound of the engine and it would drown out her voice. I think that was part of the charm; Europe didn't try to mask the noise, they were brazen and unabashed when it came to the power of an engine. They wanted it to be heard - it was just another way of having a pissing match with the other male drivers sharing the road. There was no politeness when it came to their cars, they were expected to be perfectly behaved young gentlemen the rest of the time so why shouldn't they have the chance to be loud and annoying the rest of the time? Letting the car roll to a stop, I was slightly taken a back by Marie's slow approach to leaving the car.

"Despite telling myself I wasn't going to have fun and all I wanted was an apology, I find it very hard to stick to that"

"So you did have fun?"

"Not as much as say if we'd done something like paintballing, but for dinner it was fun"

"And you got your apology. Several times over"

"Yes, I did get that apology I was looking for. Thank-you John"

"For what?"

"For being a civilised human being. For having the balls to ask me out. For putting the past behind you and moving on"

"The latter I repeat for you; thank-you for putting the past behind you. I screwed up, but I needed to and I'm a better person for it. Oh, and thank-you for not running a mile when I sent the wreath and invitation"

"I guess I won't get an explanation for it tonight then, huh?"

"Maybe some other time. Would you consider doing this again...only a little more casual?"

"Yeah, I could do that. It seems you know how to contact me, but how am I meant to contact you?"

"Look me up in the phone book. Third of the 's. Leave a message with whoever picks it up if I don't answer"

Slipping out of my side and opening hers (it would appear that this door was a little stranger to work out than most - then again, it did open up rather than out), I offered my hand. Taking it in hers, she rose from the low seat and straightened the dress, she smiled and paused on the steps to her door.

"Not going to try for an invitation?"

"This is only a first date, what do you take me for?"

There was a soft laugh and she dissapeared behind the frosted glass of the front door before I pulled away. I couldn't have really hoped for anything more from the evening, but I still couldn't help but feel that niggling feeling that something more could have happened. The drive back home was non-descript to the point where I didn't really realise it was over until the door was locked, alarm reset and I was sat on my bed. Sighing, I kicked my shoes off and leant back on the bed, giving myself over to the oblivion of sleep.

**_~0~O~0~_**

_"Good morning John, how are you today?"_

_Sitting up, the light of the room was blinding to sensitive eyes, his heart beat was in his head and he couldn't find his voice. Sitting several feet away was the current bane of his life. He didn't know her name and the ruling was that she was to be referred to as ma'am (as were all female members of staff) and those two men sat on either side of her were just as bad. This whole room was horrific; stainless steel railings and counter tops, heavily starched sheets that irritated anyone's skin and the beep of machines. The clink of metal on metal left him aware of the handcuff keeping him chained to the bed railing. One or two had had an...adverse reaction to the sedatives that were regularly pumped into them when they stepped out of line._

_"What...why am I here?"_

_He didn't recall stepping out of line, but he was stuck full of needles and covered in pads. It felt like someone had forced a fistful of broken glass down his throat and everytime he spoke it opened up new wounds. With the one free hand he dragged the crust of sleep from his eyes before turning on his side to look at the person speaking to him. He was still feeling highly worn out - most likely the result of the sedative still flowing through his viens._

_"Easy John. Don't move too quickly. You had an accident a couple of days ago"_

_He didn't remember any accident which was distressing. He didn't usually lose his memory. In fact, this would be a first if he had done so. Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair and tried to sit up fully - however, the cuff stopped him from sitting how he wanted to. Leaning back into the pillows that had been rearranged behind him, he fought the fog of memory in an attempt to grasp at anything that would trigger the chain of events in his mind that led to him being here. There was nothing. Sipping at the water passed to him, he found some ease in the heaviness of his mind and the ache in his throat._

_"Now, John. I know you probably won't like this but we need to put you back under. You had quite a nasty blow to the head and we're not sure how it's affected you so we want to make sure there's no damage. I know you don't like the sedative so we're going to try a slightly different one"_

_Bolw to the head? He'd remember that, but nothing come to the front of his mind. There was nothing reminiscent of an accident, but there was something hinting at an arguement. He couldn't be sure but there was no way on earth he was letting them stick anything else in him. As the adernaline kicked in, the last of the sedative wore away and he pulled away from the approaching doctor, struggling with the hands that came to pin his shoulders down. There were requests for him to hold still and stop being so stupid. In the growing din and chaos of the room, he found it increasingly difficult to keep a track of who was where and with what. The sting of breaking skin centred his world as he fell back into an unwilling sleep. _

_In that half waking, half sleeping state the series of events leading to this moment came back to him. Accident? No - it had been after he squared up to the one doctor and was placed under room arrest. he'd fought back when they came in to make him tow the line. He hadn't fallen, he'd been hit from behind._

**_~0~O~0~_**

Eyes shooting open, I sat up and glanced over at the alarm clock, fighting for breath. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I sighed and stripped the damp shirt from my back, casting it to one side. It was going to be one of those nights again and I couldn't think of any way of stopping it from getting worse. The flashbacks would invade both dreams and waking, bleeding into my reality and blurring the line between what was tangible and what was not. Turning on to one side, I watched the night passing through the window. I would much rather go without sleep than have to endure those memories and those worse.

There were somethings that should never be remembered and I was afflicted with them. Had I really done something that awful in a past life to deserve this?

* * *

**Yet again, 40 hits but only 2 reviews this time? What about the other 6 who have this on alert? And the person who has this as a favourtie but is yet to review? Even if it was an awful chapter tell me, then suggest how I can improve. I am very happy to receive any constructive criticism. I swear I won't be offended, if anything I would be thrilled. As always, the more updayes the quicker I update (or at least try to). ****My apologies for taking so long to update - job search has kept me busy (although, I have updated my CV and sent two or three copies out to the only suitable vacancies I've come across in the whole city...yay for progress). **

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested.**

**crazy4horses - As I'm sure an e-mail would have told you, I've acted upon your advice but I think that's only going to be safe for another 2 chapters, if I can tone it down slightly then I may well get it to last at this rating until chapter 11. Thank-you for your continued reviews - they do mean a lot.**

**Ratdogtwo - Why thank-you, and we all have our different strengths as writers. Yours may not be a Cajun accent but I'm sure there is something.**


	6. Chapter 6

_**John**_

Sleep had not come easily that night and the haunting remained deeply etched on to the face staring back at me, no matter how many times the stranger in the mirror tried to wash them away. This wasn't me, it couldn't be me. I'd never had those deepened lines, ageing me years into the future. I never looked like all I needed was to sleep, I didn't have that ashen skin drawn tightly over those prominent bones. I didn't look run down...but my reflection seemed to argue otherwise. The face looked like it belonged on a dead man and the hair, hanging lank and shiny with sweat, was darker than it should have been. It wasn't me - it was a badly done version of me. It didn't bear looking at for more than a few moments.

_What's going on? Is any of it real? Am I going insane? Surely I would remember that room...but nothing. I try and try but there's nothing. I can't remember any of it, not whilst I'm awake at least. I need a drink._

The heady heat of whiskey soaked the frozen core, bringing it to a painful flare of heat before it faded back to nothingness. The shot of smoothness, entwined with a peaty shock and smokey aroma was comforting. It was enough to drown out the shouts and cries from that past that remained as little more than untouchable whisps on the edge between the waking world and the twilight realm of shadowed sleep. It was enough to keep those demons at bay, but not keep insanity from creeping in nigh on unnoticed. It was like a slow trickle of water filling a room. It wasn't until it was up around your knees that you knew it was there and then you didn't know how to stop it.

The weak light of early morning drifted through the glass of the windows and struck off the crystal of the shot glass, throwing concentrated beams of light over the walls and ceiling. They were something to concentrate on, fading slightly as the burnished amber filled the glass, casting it's own lights and colours. There was a clink of glass on glass and the splash of liquid as it filled the container. It was enough, barely but still enough. It took more and more with each night like this, but I didn't have the concern of needing to control fire. Christ knows I missed it's warmth, but it was better this way, wasn't it?

_I just don't know any more_.

I couldn't help but feel that things had been easier and that want for the unit still pulsed through my veins as fire once did. I could want away but I was not going to admit defeat and go running back to them and their drugs. I had too much pride for that. Maybe it was a foolish idea, but I had clearly stated that I would never willingly go back to them and what they stood for. I would not be collared and monitored like some laboratory rat or figurative guinea pig every moment of every day.

Sinking them back, one after the other, was my one true escape. The need grew a little more each time, but it was worth it. So, so worth it. Liquid amnesia in the sunlight. Side effects include vomiting, sudden growth of limbs, occasional bouts of vertigo and extreme headaches. A small price to pay though, even if this brand was that little more expensive than most. It worked faster and lasted far, far longer than the cheaper version. Already the little lines were blurring and the room was spinning if I moved too quickly, my feet were growing and limbs growing heavier. The floor had a nasty habit of moving when I was least expecting it on days like these. Days when the nights before had been spent drifting between nightmarish memories and wild reality.

I didn't like that it was out of my control. I didn't like the sensation of it drifting just out of my reach. I couldn't contain it, I couldn't control or manipulate it unlike most other objects in my life. I wanted it reigned in, it was times like this that I wished that damnable psychic was still around. I could've begged him into blocking them, making me forget. However, pride was just one of those issues stopping me. Pride and difference of opinion. I didn't think like them, never really had. I wanted to, it would've given me common ground with _her_. It would've put me on level pegging with boy scout. Boy scout - another one I'd never had control over, another one I'd had to allow closer than I was comfortable with. However, he couldn't be contained by the liquid amnesia unlike these drifting thoughts. _She_ couldn't be contained by them either, but she would be mine. I was determined to make it so. She'd never find true, lasting joy away from me, she'd never turn to anyone else for comfort, she'd never want for anyone or anything else so long as she had me. I wouldn't be like boy scout Bobby. I'd never hurt her, never abandon her, never cheat on her. She was more priceless than any piece of art this world had to offer, worth far more than any car or house, rarer than the British crown jewels. She was the only one I could ever consider sacrificing this whole world for and she would belong to me. It would take time, but I wouldn't give up on her like I had on so many other items that had held my interest.

I only had one picture of her, it had been from that day the blue German had attacked the president of the time. It's only flaw was that he was in it. The odd singe mark didn't bother me, it only added to it. I'd almost lost it at Alcatraz but for some stupid reason I went back for it. That was my downfall. If I'd just left it then they would've never found me, never taken me. I couldn't leave it behind though, her smile would've faded from memory if I didn't have it. I hadn't meant to act in the way I had that day, but when that ass hole started leering at her and Bobby did nothing, all civility went out the window. We all knew she could defend herself, but that was beside the point. No-one should feel like they had the right to stare at her - the look in his eyes had been a kin to that of a starved dog looking at a steak and boy scout did nothing to defend her. A damaged jacket would've been the least of his worries if we hadn't been called back. Why I'd let boy scout remain in it for so long was a touch of a mystery, but he wouldn't last in it much longer.

It was strangely satisfying to feel the photo paper give way so easily, tearing him away from us. This was how it should have been. It should've been us, not them. He should've gone to Kitty instead of toying with her for so long. I wanted his face to burn away, to fade from memory and existence for good. I wanted him dead for what he had done, but it didn't work that way. Not any more. Not since the unit - they'd taken that chance away from me. From all of us who had been there at the same time. If it ever wore off, I'd go back but not for them to take me away again, but to remind them why they'd broken me down in the first place. They thought they could push me into a corner and make a sheep. They had never been more wrong. I wanted to feel the warmth of the flame again. It's memory would tease me at time, tingling underneath long since cold skin all to remind me of what I had lost...all for a picture of a memory. All for her.

The half with us was down on the table, but boy scout was still staring up at me from his half. That agonising prickling was back. The closest I could get to describing it was either that time I managed to land in a beach bonfire, or thousands of needles ramming into my hand at the same time. I still had a scar on my leg from that fire, almost gone but still there. Still a painful reminder of what started my love of fire. Hard to think that love could come from something so painful. But then again, love usually results in pain so why should it not work the other way round? But this was one time when nothing would come from pain - nothing but negativity and the need for more whiskey. Some would say I was growing into a state of alcoholism, that I was becoming dependant but better the bottle than some illicit street drug. Placing the picture down, there was something strange about it, something different. The less time spent paying attention to it the better, but there was something about it. How I wanted it to burn, I could picture it going up in flames, leaving a scorched smell to the air. I wanted it so much but I couldn't. No little spark to let it grow as feral as the inner rage that needed to be kept under lock and key at all times.

When the world around you teaches you hate, you learn to hate back. That hate is the really destructive part of any individual and it can change a person in a very short space of time. That stabbing had grown to something far more painful. I couldn't describe it, it was almost like someone was peeling away the skin layer by layer, only worsened by the low buzz. Casting the picture down, sinking into the corner...none of it would work this time. The pain would only grow, screaming it away didn't work and the tears that had been so close through my nights in the institute did not hold the same purifying qualities as they once did. The heat was incredible, forcing it's way to the surface and forming blisters. The tips cracked and bled as they would do under great heat or great pressure. Those hardly contained memories struck back one by one. Everything from the darkest moments of childhood to the few moments on hope I'd had. I'd blown that all...no, it hadn't been me. It'd all started with boy scout. The day he arrived was the day it all went to the dogs.

_Get it together ya great drongo. D'ya wanna get stuck here forever? If you don't pick it up, we'll leave ya...What's wrong with you? It's just a little water. Why can't you be more like your brothers?...Ya insufferable little freak...stay the hell away from us. You ain't our brother, not any more...I forgot I was meant to have you this weekend. Food's in the fridge and I have a key, I'll see you in the morning...No-one would believe you, and if you ever breathe a word I'll track you down and make you wish you'd never been born...Hey, Aussie. Nice jacket. Think you can get it back from us?...John, can you not behave yourself for more than a few minutes?...Will you stop showing off?...We gave you a second chance and you're throwing it back in our faces. Do you really want to swing? That's what'll happen...Do you honestly think this will ever do anything other than haunt you? You're a screw up. Always have been, always will be...Why don't you do it right this time? It's down the road, not across the street. Can't even kill yourself right, how did you manage with all those others? Was it really you or was it the old man?...I'm not treating him. I don't care if I'm duty bound, scum like him don't deserve to live...Why would any one love you? You're lower than dirt._

There was a voice, someone outside the bubble calling me. Arms were pulling hands away from my face, trying to force me to look up. A voice, a different memory broke through. Something...someone positive. A simple statement that changed everything. One that brought to an end a lot of the pain and isolation I'd suffered through at the institute. Something with genuine warmth and approval to it. Not once had they denied me or tried to hold me back unless it had genuinely been for my own good.

_Quite a talent you have there, Pyro...You're a God among insects, never let anyone tell you different_

"Pyro, my dear boy. What have they done to you?"

Despite the distance in those blue eyes, there was a warmth and an almost fatherly tone to his voice. Not one of pity or sympathy, but one of empathy. The woman behind him felt the room, I never really got a chance to look at her properly but there was a vague recollection of a white flash. I didn't know who it was and I was beyond caring, I just wanted it to stop.

"Yours is going to be a painful path back to how you were. I should have never let you go back, and all for a photograph. Still, she really is quite magnificent, isn't she? I suggest you rest for now. My friend will help there. This maelstrom must be slowed down"

I didn't fully understand what he was saying, but there was a scratch and the blissful embrace of a drug induced sleep. Peace to a troubled mind...this was all I had wanted. All I craved. Surrender was so easy, just like falling off a log.

_**Rogue**_

"Marie...oi, my dear little one"

"Huh?" Glancing over, I wasn't too suprised to find one of my followers as they were mockingly called by other office staff. The same girl who had sat and scribbled down those different meanings - she was some what new age in her approach to life. She had the strangest types of knowledge and yet some how it worked in her favour. "What is it?"

"You're cell's rung several times...you not been payin attention?"

"Guess not"

She had a pretty enough smile and her voice was one of those almost irritating sing-song type voices that were fine for a while but tended to irritate after a longer time of exposure. That or it would put the listener to sleep. She was just one of those people that were unfortunate to be in possession of permanently dream-like features. Too soft to be definable, but not bland enough to be considered plain. Wallpaper kids was one term I'd heard in high school, but we weren't there any more. Time to grow up and think of a new label. That's all it ever was though - a world of labels and boxes to put people in and if anyone dared to defy the social norms and become in any way individual then all hell would break loose. The buzz of the vibrating cell snapped me out of the growing daze. The number was a mystery, but I couldn't ignore it again. Hell it could be important. Couldn't imagine why, but there's that gut feeling you get from time to time when you just _know_ you have to do something. I knew what I meant, but I would never be able to explain it. Plus, that buzzing was irritating when you finally paid attention to it.

I regretted it. The moment his name was mentioned I regretted it.

_**~0~O~0~**_

_"Hello?"_

_"Would I be talking to a Miss Marie D'Ancanto"_

_"Yes, how can I help you?"_

_"I'm calling on behalf of John Allerdyce"_

_"God, what's he done this time?"_

_"He's had a small accident, nothing major but he has been brought into the ER"_

_"Christ...damn nutjob. I'll be there in ten minutes tops. Just make sure he doesn't leave"_

_**~0~O~0~**_

I could curse his name until the cows came home but it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference. Not to him. Why I even decided to come was still something of a mystery, but I think part of me was glad that I had when I saw him. I didn't know what he had done to himself, but he looked so helpless and broken sat on the edge of the bed. So lost. Still, at least he wasn't drowned in that battered old leather jacket that he'd been so attached to. He never did say what happened to it.

"Hey you...what did you do this time?"

"Don't remember"

There was a stale smell to him. Stale but warm...like Bourbon, but not. It was hard to describe the difference, but I had a feeling that Logan would have been able to tell me, were he with me. He'd probably be able to tell me the brand, age and how much he'd drank as well.

"How much did you drink?"

"I'm sorry" His voice shrank to a whisper, looking over at me from behind that sweep of light brown hair. "They...I...sorry"

"Stop apologising. How about we get you home and talk about it later. That sound good?"

He didn't vocalise his reply, just nodded and stood slowly. There was a sway in his step, but for once it wasn't coming from his cocky attitude. For the first time I noticed those wads of white wrapped around his hands, making me wonder just what he had done. It had me wondering the entire journey back to his home. I'd have to go back to work at some point, but not yet. I didn't think he'd be fine by himself. Not yet at least. The entire time spent in the car he was leant up against the window, staring into space and white as a ghost. He didn't speak, he didn't laugh...hell, it was hard to tell whether or not he was breathing at times. Even when the car stopped he didn't make a noise, instead he shuffled inside and his head found a throw cushion.

"John?"

He sighed and looked over. Closing his eyes, he made a sound that was reminiscent of an answer to someone asking after him. Back at the institute it would've been a short and snappy _'what'_ or, if he was in one of those moods, a rather sarcastic _'Can I help you?'_. Not now though, this wasn't the John I knew and remembered. As much as he'd irritated me, I found myself wanting that sharp tongue and wicked sense of humour back. I didn't know what to make of him when he was like this. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity that made me so unsure.

"What happened?"

"Not sure...don't you have work?"

"It can wait. I wanna make sure you're OK before I leave"

"Why?"

Why? Why would I not want to make sure he was OK? I was his friend wasn't I? Isn't that what friends did – looked out for each other and make sure they don't get hurt? If that was the case, I'd clearly been a lame friend over the years. OK, so admittedly he hadn't been around for a lot of those years and I couldn't really stop him getting hurt all the time, but there was still a stab of guilt every time I caught sight of those bandages. I still didn't know what he'd done, the hospital staff had mentioned something about burns but I simply could not tell how he'd managed that – everything was electrical so it wasn't like there was anything that he could inadvertently affect and he hadn't once brought out his lighter to play with which suggested that he didn't have it any more.

"Why shouldn't I? You're important to me John, always have been"

"And you...you're beautiful. Always...always have been"

"Did I also mention you're incredibly drunk?"

As bad as it was, I couldn't help but laugh. Trying to point in my direction, he'd managed to come with in a hairs breadth of completely falling off the couch and was trying to push himself back up. I was tempted to leave him there as revenge for walking out on us...and it was hilarious to watch him floundering. However, I wasn't that cruel.

"Need a hand back up?"

I didn't expect his next move; his lips came to my own, it was urgent, hungry, passionate. So very sweet, but at the same time hinting at the choking smoke of fire with a twist of something alcoholic. It wasn't like Bobby's chilled touch...it was smoother, headier. And for some inexplicable reason I wanted more. His warmth hit me like a wall, pulling me into him. His body against mine was dizzying, the closeness of flesh was intoxicating and it made me question just how long he'd been waiting to do this...that or just how much _experience_ he had. A damn sight more than me if we were going on the latter, but I had never thought about him in this way before tonight. Or had I, but just been blinded by Bobby and the attention he'd shown me? No power kicking in, no siphoning of power and memory, nothing but normal, human contact. He pulled away and strangely, I missed that moment of contact.

"I told you, you're beautiful"

"I should go. I have work. You'll be OK?"

"I'll be fine"

Trust him to pull something like that. I should be insulted...however I couldn't help but smile. Bobby would've never been that forward or spontaneous, nor would any other guy before or since him. I think part of me was glad of the attention and having someone who wasn't scared to touch me. He knew what I could do if I chose to, but he hadn't been put off. I really did need to get back to work though.

_**John**_

The house fell silent when she left. Had I been too forward? Had I put her off? Going further back...who was it that had stopped everything from falling apart? Who would still refer to me as Pyro? I really did need to stop asking so many questions – as the numbing of the alcohol wore off, the pounding rose with each question. Still, at least I was in control of those memories, or dreams, by now and didn't need to worry about that particular aspect of waking any more. At least not for now. It could return at any moment if I let it. I _had_ to figure out how to get this under control before it finally drove me to the knife's edge of insanity. Rolling back on to the couch, I raised my hands watching those white wraps holding the skin together. I had a vague recollection of what they'd been like on arrival – blistering, red raw and even bleeding from some of the deeper wounds. I just didn't understand what had happened.

"How are you my dear boy?"

The voice was familiar. I didn't know whether to fear it or embrace it with open arms. Either way, there was no denying who it belonged to. Maybe he wasn't the best of people to have around at the moment, but I had to give the brotherhood that they were being persistent if nothing else.

"I've been better. And yourself?"

A chuckle and he took a seat opposite me, placing his hat down on one side next to him.

"Well, I've had far worse days. I know what you're going through"

"Oh really? Pray tell, Magneto. Just what is it that I'm meant to be going through?"

"Your powers are re-emerging. However, I feel it may well be different for you. They were suppressed for so long, I'm of little doubt that it will be a painful"

"What exactly do you mean?"

He went silent for a period of time, as if thinking of how he could explain. Leaning forward in his seat he looked down and sighed.

"It is similar to, for example, a bottle of carbonated drink. When it is sealed and shaken pressure builds. If that pressure is not released then the bottle will eventually explode. However, if the pressure is released through the removal of the seal then there will be an immediate rush of built up pressure before levelling out"

"And what would my seal be?"

"The cure, my dear boy"

"Who said I took any cure?"

Silence descended over the two. Denial lay heavy in the air. I maybe able to hide and deny many things in my past from him, but the cure was one thing I could not. Picking it up and tipping his hat in my direction. He left, only pausing once at the door.

"Just promise me one thing"

"What would that be?"

"What ever you do, don't go back to the brotherhood. It is not what it was"

"I had no intention in doing so"

It was only when the front door closed when I questioned how he had got inside in the first place. Still, it was too late to ponder that now. What he did leave me with was worth thinking about. Why had he asked me to stay away from the brotherhood? What had gone so wrong? Then there was the promise that this would be painful. Is that what the last few weeks been all about? A re-emergence? If it was, then it was going to be hell until it stopped. It made me seriously consider crawling back to the unit and begging them for the cure, just to stop this pain. However, it lasted for a split second. No, I wouldn't go back. I'd ride it out and learn to live with this. I'd sooner go back to the institute than the unit.

* * *

**I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. I managed John's section in a couple of hours, but most of my time has been spent on trying to force out Rogue's section, so if it's poor quality, I apologise. I personally am not happy with it, at least around the middle section, but I know that if I tried to improve it I'd rewrite it several times before deleting it.**

**50 hits but and 3 reviews, well, technically four but we'll not go on technicality. It's still an improvement which I'm grateful for. However, if you have this on alert/favourite then please review...even if it was an awful chapter tell me, then suggest how I can improve. I am very happy to receive any constructive criticism. I swear I won't be offended, if anything I would be thrilled. As always, the more updates the quicker I update (or at least try to).**

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested.**

**Ratdogtwo - Thank-you for your continued support and reviews, it means a lot. Have a cookie.**

**Parris411 - You're back! May I suggest the alternative words adore, admire and like? I'm sure there are more, but that's all I can come up with. Give it a few chapters and you won't want to be giving John a hug. I'll say nothing more on that matter for now, but just wait. I'm afraid to say that there won't be another flashback from the unit or institute for another three chapters if I stick to the chapter outlines I've got noted down. Oh, and I'm glad you like Alfie - he's based off a school friend, but with his little brother's name instead of his own. He's your stereotypical gay and very proud of it - he dresses me better than I ever could and I do love him so. Your continued support is greatly appreciated - have a cookie.**

**Crazy4horses - For the constructive criticism AND continued reviews, you get two cookies. I think they do that in an attempt to get rid of the copies - every single book that I've seen is constantly in the 50% or 75% sale section. I do love a challenge and I've had a go at it, it's part of why it's taken me slightly longer to write this chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Bobby**_

The news never really held much interest for me. Especially not the celebrity pages, but I had to admit that the whole paparazzi thing had it's advantages. Prying into the lives of the even remotely well known lives and serving it up for the general populace provided information that would normally be unlikely to be found. Like right now...surely Marie would've been told to stay away from him and yet there were pictures of her. Climbing in and out of his car, taking him home, reports of her staying several hours after some incident. It didn't give the address, but there was enough information there to pinpoint an area. It looked like it was several miles outside the city limits and the house had a certain unique flavour to it. I still couldn't figure out why Marie was hanging around him...surely she knew what he was like. Didn't she remember how he walked out? All those innocent lives he destroyed? The millions worth of damage he did? I just couldn't understand how she could be so blind.

I couldn't sit by and let this happen. No, something had to be done and I doubted anyone else would be the one to do it. It had to be me, I had to do something...anything.

I had to think logically though. There was the distance between Illinois and Mississippi, so I'd need money, clothes and transport. It couldn't be that hard, could it? Borrow a car abd throw a bag of clothes together. Money...well, it would be a stretch but I could make it. The only remaining issue...Kitty. She just didn't get it and she sure as hell would do everything she could to stop me going. I'd just have to go without her knowing. Kinda underhanded, but what had to be done, had to be done. One way or another.

Closing the laptop, I let the roar of young students wash over as they thundered past the room toward the games room. It wasn't quite like the original one in Westchester, but it was good enough. Maybe it was that it lacked the sentimental value that I was used to them having. Good memories and bad were contained in that room. The odd long night when neither he or John were sleeping and when they had still been talking they would've played game after game of pool, or on one of the many different video games. The hours spent with one of the other older teens, falling into some trance in front of the television or rushing any homework they had left to the last minute, the times when they forgot for just a small that they were anything other than perfectly normal teenagers. The current generation would be gaining those memories and sentiments as their time passed and their control grew until one day they were able to leave the safety of their institute. I wanted it to be safe on the outside as well and if that meant I had to sacrifice a few old friends then so be it.

"Bobby?"

Kitty was speaking. With a smile, I left the seat and walked over. She simply could not find out, I had to keep this quiet. She, like everyone else, had to be protected from the maniac. It would be a damn sight more than just his hands that were left with frostbite so long as I didn't get caught out.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you've got the whole John thing out of your head"

"Why?"

"Because I need you here – I'm heading down to Mississippi for about a week. Someone other than Logan needs to go see her"

"Somehow I don't think she was your biggest fan when she left"

"Actually. I'm taking Jubilation down. She failed her driving test again"

"Again?" Chuckling, I shook my head and dropped down in one of the nearest seats, looking over at her as she crossed her arms and scowled at my reaction. "How many times is that now? Five or six?"

"Actually, it's only three" Turning on her heel, she left. Calling over her shoulder that she would be going on Saturday.

Well then, I'd just have to make sure I was gone before then.

**~0~~O~~0~**

_**Storm**_

"What do you mean you've found him?"

I hadn't seen this call coming – at least not so soon. I didn't expect it to take a few days for Magneto (or Erik as he now preferred) to find John. I had always thought we would be the ones to find him. I never thought I'd be taking this call. From what had been said, John had been suffering. Just what was afflicting him I was not yet privy to, but I'd find out.

"_Just that – he's in Mississippi"_

"Where exactly?"

"_That doesn't matter. You know which state he's in and that should be enough"_

"How is he?" I probably sounded a little deperate, but I had to know. I knew I looked even more desperate than I must have sounded, leaning forward in my seat and twirling a stray lock of hair round and round a finger.

"_Sick. It would seem the unit wasn't quite as good for him as we first thought"_

"Surely he should be up here then, where he has people looking out for him?"

"_I can assure you that there are people looking out for him. Not only is there the friends and associates he's made over the years, but I'll be watching over him and Miss D'Ancanto seems to have developed a soft spot for him. Besides, the health care system here is no different to that in New York"_

"Rogue? How did she find him?"

"_I believe she prefers Marie to Rogue, and it was completely accidental from what I can tell. They just happened to be in the same club at the same time. Now, I've informed you of his whereabouts as per our agreement. I will speak to him in the spring and see if he is willing to leave the southern states for a visit. Goodbye Ms Monroe"_

"Goodbye"

With a sigh, I was left listening to the tone of the dead line. Placing it down and running a hand through my hair, I dragged my gaze up to the only other person in the room. Visits from Hank McCoy were increasingly rare but he came when he could. At the moment, he was technically down on official business but it would never be completely official here.

There was an outline of his silhouette as he gazed out of the window, letting his own sigh out. There was little doubt now that he knew. Moving from the window to the empty seat on the opposite side of the desk, he seemed lost in an inner storm of debate and contemplation over what ever it was he had picked up on during the telephone call that had ended mere moments before.

"You heard?"

"Yes. I've looked up this unit and it lost all government funding several years ago. Something about severe malpractice, the notes were very sketchy. I can't seem to trace it's funding and why that number of mutants were transferred has not been recorded"

Pausing in midflow, he looked down, fingers on his temples and with one leg crossed over the other. Something must have been weighing heavy on his mind. Something he was yet to share with me. I think part of me dreaded what ever it was he was about to say, knowing full well it wouldn't be pleasant.

"None of it makes sense, and those mutants treated at the clinic...well, half of them went to early graves and the rest are either locked away in various asylums or were completely institutionalised and are unable to live independently. It would appear that so far John is one of the few to have not gone down any of those routes as of yet. I fear for him, but I do agree that it should be left until the spring before he is approached"

"Can we be sure that he will last that long?"

Glancing up, he let his hands drop away from his face and placed them on the arm rests before rising and offering out a hand to shake. I would seem that his visit was drawing to an end.

"No, but we should hope and pray that he does. Good day Ms Monroe, and I promise my next visit will be of a notably more social nature"

Shaking his hand, I couldn't help but smile at this blue furred mutants very gentleman like behaviour. "I should hope so Hank, it's been nothing but business with you lately"

I knew he was biting back a reply that would lead to a further conversation – you could see in his eyes that he knew he would be late for one thing or another. One's work was never down when one worked in Politics. He didn't slam the door like most would, but it shut softly enough for me to not hear it as I tried to bury myself in work just so I could forget that conversation. Could this unit really kill John, even if he wasn't there any more?

**~0~~O~~0~**

_**Dr Moira MacTaggart**_

_You know Moira, I think it's time I tried waking up_

It was her normal morning routine – wake-up, shower and dress for work, cycle to work, check e-mails and voice messages, tell the American's where to stick their offer, have a drink and go see her favourite brain-dead patient who had for the last week been subjected to listening to some documentary wherein one of their former students were daily degraded and brainwashed over the matter of their sanity. Though the big question at the moment was simple enough; how the hell do I reply to that?

"I had a friend once, not spoken to them in a while but I don't know how things would work out if they came back into my life at the moment. I don't think it's the right time for the past to be stirred and what with how things are at the moment...not just here, but all over the world. I don't know, it just doesn't feel right"

_So you suggest that I sit back and let this continue? Heanvens knows what damage has been done already_

"He would have quite a strong opinion on this unit. He'd probably try and convince me to help crusade. It was just like him – always trying to fix things whilst they still worked. Maybe not as well as when he first came across them, but they still worked"

_So you think I should sit back...I just can't Moira. I have to do something_

"He always seemed to think that the world was on his shoulders. His mindset let him believe that he was responsible for everyone he ever came across. He just didn't seem to understand that he couldn't always help everyone and that they were responsible for their own actions. I admit, it was sweet but he stretched himself too thin and I just don't know if he could manage it again. He had something of a breakdown if I'm honest, but still...now, lets have a look at these charts shall we?"

I knew he'd persist until I gave in and let him wake. Technically he could do it any time, but for some strange reason it was as if he was waiting for a blessing of some sort from me. I had a feeling that the reaction would be one of sheer disbelif if he were to return to the institute after such a long time. I would like to see their faces, but at the same time I didn't think they would completely accept that the stranger in front of them – walking, which was one thing they'd never come across before, at least with the professor – really was Charles Xavier. I was having a hard enough time as it was and I had known about it for a good six or seven years now. Maybe it was one of those things you'd never really get used to. I wanted to, I really did but it was easier said than done.

"Well, everything seems in order. I wonder how you really are though"

_Do you really need to ask that Moira?_

"I'm sure you're the same as every other time I've asked you that. However, it can't hurt to ask. Can it?"

_I will do this Moira, I need to be there_

I wouldn't dignify his reply with a response of my own. Instead I let the door close behind me and left him with the recording of that documentary that the patient seemed to like so much - or hated... no one was quite sure as of yet. We didn't have enough information to suggest just what it was those short blasts of brain activity were. They were something to keep an eye on, but without the patient waking up we wouldn't know. Maybe it would be worth letting him try to wake, but for some reason the timing didn't feel right.

**~0~~O~~0~**

_"Can I ask why we havent' seen or heard anything from John over the last few days?"_

_"John...ah, yes John. For that little scene he caused, he's been placed under room arrest for a couple of days. However, most unfortunately that turned into several days in the infirmary. He got very angry and somehow managed to split his head open. Several stitches later and the injury was virtually gone, but it's better to be safe than sorry"_

_They - that is the interviewer and white clad professional - were in the one office kept seperate from the res of the unit. It could be read in her face that she had been expecting the issue of John to come up at some point and the tone of er voice suggested that it was a line she'd been rehearsing time and again. She hadn't hesitated enough and kept that smile on the whole time through. Leaning back in her chair, she accepted a drink from a blonde haired individual, dressed in a similar manner to all members of staff with a major difference being in colour of clothing. Whilst staff wore white, she was in a light grey. Though, she wasn't the only one - there were a number of other mutants in the same colour and clothing. As the door shut, the interviwer returned to their questioning._

_"I've also noticed that a number of mutants seemed to have had a notable change in their clothing. Could I enquire as to why that is?"_

_"Some of them feel that it's time they moved on and accepted the help being given to them. It's to mark tham apart from the others. As I'm sure you've noticed there is a fair number here - seventy five to be exact - and it's hard to keep a track of who is who at times. Besides, we can't let them stay in the clothes they arrived in. That would just be inhumane"_

_There was a smile and the clinical white of the office faded out to a black. From the darkness emerged a hall or cafeteria of some variety, half empty but most of those present were clad in the same uniformed grey tunics and trousers. Panning over them, it could just be that it was a recorded image but there was so little life and spark left in the eyes of those gathered. The most surprising among them was John - he also appeared to be the most lifeless, barely keeping his head off of the table in front of him._

_"Good morning, how are we all today?"_

_There was a general murmur of answers, but nothing distinct. Most didn't manage an answer, but instead raised their heads before letting them fall again into the cradle of their arms. The number present seemed far smaller than the seventy five she'd mentioned previously, if anything there was barely more than forty, and at least thirty of those were in the grey and struggling to stay awake._

_"Those on stage two can stay back, those still on stage one know the drill by now. You remain under supervision and in the same room until your session. After you'll return to the room. Stage two, you'll be in groups of three. You'll be spending the day with various councillors and workers. Any questions?"_

_Those still in street clothes looked over to John who made no move to challenge the set routine. If anything, he seemed to let it wash over him with no real reaction to be ordered around. The staff seemed unbothered by it, but it clearly came as something of a shock to those waiting on his reaction. At the most, he turned his head to rest it on the opposite side of his face and sighed as he closed his eyes._

_"Right then. Stage one can leave and stage two can look up the grouping - they'll be pinned up here but we'll give you some time to wake up properly before hand"_

_~0~O~0~_

_Within the kitchen unit there were three groups, over looked by one individual. The most prolific of the mutant residents was the blone haired woman who had brought the drink to the office (as it had been earlier revealed, she was called Emma), John and a more unusual figure that was rarely referred to as anything other than Toad. Apparently his real name was Mortimer, but it was something of a mouthful to say. Though he was no longer able to use that persona, it was something that had stuck with him. It had been assumed that his gymnastic ability had been a mutation, but apparently not._

_"So remind me why they have us cooking again?" It was Toad that spoke, setting a timer as Emma placed a saucepan on one of the stove rings and lit the gas._

_"Something to do with reintergrating us into society. Basic life skills I think. Any ideas John?" She looked over, tucking a stray lock behind her ear._

_"Hmm? Dunno. Think so...what was the question again?" Yawning, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as if he was cold._

_"Still half asleep, aren't you? Did they have you awake the whole time you were down in the infirmary?" Weaving her arms through the small gaps, she rpied his arms away from him as he pulled her in. There was nothing other than a platonic, almost sibling affection to it._

_"Nope. Slept mostly. Too much sleep I think" Unwinding himself from her, he shuffled over to the stove and turned down the heat on one of the rings, glancing at the contents of the pan._

_"So what is stage two?" The speaker couldn't be seen, but it was Emma that spoke. Her gaze didn't leave the camera for a single moment whereas the two boys ignored it completely._

_"Stage two is when you'e come to an understanding that your past actions were unacceptable and harmful to general society. You see less of the psychologists and psychiatrists and start to work on other areas. Some still have school to finish like John, others have basic life skills to learn, others, like Mortimer, need to broaden what their knowledge encompasses. It's more about gaining independence and the ability to survive when and if you chose to leave the unit"_

_"Don't come across too strongly Ems...don't want to scare them off, do we now?" It was John that spoke, but not once did he take his eyes off the task in front of him. Apparently it took all his concentration to slice an onion._

_"Better than being a wallflower Johnny-boy" There was no reply to that. He paused for a moment, gazing at the board in front of him. Pushing it to one side, he pulled his apron off and excused himself leaving the room without saying a word. With a sigh, Emma shook her head and took up his position infront of the board. "That's the other thing, we're not restricted to one room but we're still not allowed to go anywhere unsupervised. They'll keep their distance but there'll still be someone there"_

* * *

**It's the return of Bobby (boo), the institute (yay) and Moira (double yay). I will admit that I could have updated quicker, but I didn't start this chapter until 1 in the afternoon GMT yesterday, wrote for an hour and then went to see my niece for a while general skipped between various different things, went to bed at about 11:30 and started writing again at 12:30...as it turns out, my bed is very possessive. This was posted at 2:20 PM GMT, taking me a mere 7 hours to write. I don't really know why I did it that way...I've been something of a lazy writer and for that I'm very sorry.  
**

**40 hits and 4 reviews. It's a notable improvement which I'm grateful for, but I still feel that those who do have this on alert but haven't reviewed should try and give at least one review, even if it is as something as basic as _'good chapter' _or a detailed, in-depth review where you point out any flaws or strengths and just how I could improve. I really don't mind and every reviewer gets a mention at the very least. However, if you have this on alert/favourite then please review...even if it was an awful chapter tell me, then suggest how I can improve. I am very happy to receive any constructive criticism. I swear I won't be offended, if anything I would be thrilled. As always, the more updates the quicker I update (or at least try to). Also, a huge thank-you to the two new reviewers.**

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested. **

**Crazy4horses – I'm glad I could do that for you, the whole Monday thing that is. I did use to write in that style, but it faded out and it's hard to get back to. I'm sure that the more I try and work it back that easier it'll get. Thank-you so much for you continued support and reviews.**

**Dark Solitare and Ratdogtwo – Thank-you for your reviews.**

**KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun – Well, I suppose you'll just have to keep reading if you want to find out just how I'll write it up.**


	8. Chapter 8

**_Marie_**

It was insane...why could I not stop thinking about him? He was even in my dreams. Or at least, I think it was him. Younger, scruffier and far far skinnier than I'd ever seen him. It was those eyes though - so much pain and hate wrapped up in something so small, so lost. It was heart breaking. As much as I tried to not think about it, the more prominent those images and voices became. What confused me was the Australian accent - John wasn't Australian...was he? No. Or at least, he didn't sound it nor did he act as what I thought of as the typical Aussie. Then again, how could I judge an entire country of people on what Hollywood portrayed? He could have been, but I didn't know how long he'd been at the institute before I turned up - he seemed pretty in control, he could have been there for years and simply lost the accent. After all, he was surrounded by Americans seemingly 24/7. The morning air was clean an surprisingly crisp. Despite that, the sound of early morning traffic was blaringly obvious. It drowned out everything else and the waves of exhausts were slowly drowning out that moment of wildness in the air. I think mornings like this made me miss the institute. After all, there they had space and quiet in the mornings. Once everyone was awake the place didn't feel big enough for those there, especially the longer I stayed. I'd miss having my own place if I ever went back. I saw no reason for me to go back, but this feeling of mutual cohabitation between humans and mutants could only last so long. It was an unsettling feeling that grew stronger every time news about the friends of humanity surfaced. The idea of being forced back wasn't one I'd stand for, but I'd rather live with a group of control freaks than end up dead. I think things really started to unravel after the professor passed over and the military like grasp they instilled was merely a way of keeping things from falling apart completely. Maybe in times like this with daily attacks on mutants and those deemed sympathisers it wasn't such a bad idea - that is, keeping everyone close by. However, if those building where mutants were numerous there could be countless fatalities. There were pros and cons to every side of life and it was a case of what was most appealing to the individual.

I knew I probably looked like hell - a couple of people had taken the liberty to point it out that morning - but I couldn't come up with a decent excuse. What would I say? I was recalling other peoples memories and it kept me up? Yeah, they know what I am, but it just wouldn't click in their minds straight away. It'd probably take a couple of days after telling them that it would all fall into place. I didn't blame them though, it wasn't like mine was a power that would be more easily understood than others. To be honest, I think it would be easier if my mutation was more like John's or Bobbie's. Something a little more simple to explain and straight forward in it's demonstration. Maybe I would have to rethink the whole girls evening thing again - I didn't like people seeing me first thing in the morning and the rush for the bathroom was horrific. I think I had to be grateful that this was a day off for me. I could wait until they'd all gone to work and then get showered and dressed. What else would I do today? I probably needed to go see John - it'd been a few days since the incident and I wasn't sure if he had anyone visiting him. He didn't seem to have much company and I dreaded to think that he'd been sat around drinking. I guess I didn't help just walking out on him the other day. Would it have been better for me to stay? I think maybe it wouldn't have been the best of choices, but maybe it would have been better than walking out on him.

"Now jus' what would m'favouri'e fille be doin' t'day?" Alfie was leaning in the doorway, still only half dressed with his trademark smirk on his face.

"I, Alfie, am going to see my favourite novelist"

"Dis be John, non?" Raising an eyebrow, he stood up rather than leaning on the doorframe. Now that had peaked his interest.

"Yes Alfie, it's John"

"Dere anytin I need t' know bout?"

"No Alfie, we're friends is all"

"Mm hmm...dat be why y' go red when we talk bout 'im" Damn...had he noticed that? I knew I could feel heat rising up the back of my neck but I didn't think he'd notice it - I'd convinced myself that I just didn't blush any more.

"I do not"

"'Course petite. Hug?"

"Not today Alfie. I ain't feelin' so great...don't wanna hurt you"

"Course darlin...course" Pulling his arms back in, he looked down for a moment before picking his shirt up - I knew that would leave a rift for a while, not something I wanted between us. Alfie was the only one to really not give a shit, the only one to have never hesitated around me and I knew he would now. That hurt. "I see y' round non?"

"Yeah...I guess you will" Flopping down on a seat, I let him leave. He was the last to go - always was. I knew it would be chaos when I got round to doing the kitchen, but right now I needed to see John. I needed to know how he was doing and I had a feeling that he'd probably lie to me if I only rang him. No, that wouldn't do - not in the slightest. I had to go to see him.

_**John**_

The glare of sun-soaked white was enough to convince me to keep my eyes closed. It did spark panic that I was back in the unit. The one place I didn't want to be. However, I didn't remember coming back - surely I'd remember something like that? Beyond the pounding headache and churning stomach I found I didn't care about much. If I was back at the unit then maybe it would be better than being most other places.

"You're awake then?" The voice, soft as it was, cut through me like a knife. I knew it but as much as I tried, I just couldn't place it. "Don't move John - you've had a rough few days"

Rough? Oh, I could agree there. It felt like someone had dipped me in acid or torn chunks of me out and left me to the vultures. My voice didn't work - it came out as a groan instead of words, I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn't. Even trying to speak was painful enough. The touch of something cool was a relief on otherwise burning skin. What was happening to me? And why now? Someone touched my cheek...at least, I think they did. Whatever it was, it was like ice and, christ, it hurt worse than the burning. There was a wet trail creeping it's way down my face...was that me? Did a mere touch reduce me to tears now?

"Don't worry, it'll pass soon. You're just not used to the heat. You've spent so long without that fire running through your veins. Do you feel it?"

Is that what this was? All I really knew was it felt like some unending agony. There was the hiss of metal sliding over metal - someone had shut the curtains. Cracking my eyes open slightly, the glare was gone thankfully. The cool touch faded for a moment and there was the sound of water. Like someone wringing something out before the cool returned. Was that the cliche of a flannel during a fever? I hadn't had that since...actually, had I ever had that? No. Not that I could remember. The person sat with me - the one withe soft voice - was lacking in her usual white attire. She looked surprisingly normal. Though why was she here? The last thing I wanted was a telepath hanging around to annoy me...but then again she had been through the same unit, had the same tests and drugs tested on her (albiet, not as many) and if anyone knew what this was like, it was her.

"Emma?" Had someone stuffed broken glass down my throat when I was out of it? It felt that way. It also felt like someone had replaced my brain with cotton wool - really heavy wool, but wool nonetheless. Letting my head drop in her direction, I found a strange security in knowing it really was her.

Smiling, she pushed stray strands of hair out of my eyes before answering. "Yes, I'm here John. I'm going to help you...I won't lose you too" Lose me...too? Who else had she lost - it would seem she understood the wave of confusion flooding my mind. "Toad...he didn't make it through. Couldn't take it and he ended it before anyone else could"

There was a flash of something in my mind - a hanging shadow, the irritating gits shoes attached to legs - his legs - swaying several feet from the ground. He'd never been happy - there had always been an element of depression to him. He had never been free of it, not even when his mutation had been surpressed. Apparently it really had been too much for him. There was a small degree of pity in my heart for him; he'd been...interesting to say the very least. Exceptionally intelligent and when coaxed out of his shell, he dropped that irritating, cocky act and proved to be little more than insecure and in need of friendship more than anything else. Such a shame really.

"Yes, it is a shame isn't it...can you understand why we wouldn't want to lose you?" She seemed to be in her own world, staring down at the hands resting in her lap.

"How can you help me?" I really did have to stop talking. She glanced up, passing over a drink before looking back down at her hands. Maybe she didn't have it nearly as figured out as I thought she would've had.

"It maybe that your powers have further mutated...you may well be able to create fire and not just control it. It could be that you always had that ability but were never taught how to master it. Only time will tell" She seemed to fall quieter the more she said. What was she suggesting? That I'd been blocked somehow? As much as Xavier had irritated me, surely he wouldn't... "It's perfectly likely. He did it to Jean, whose to say he didn't do it to other students as well? Think about it - how many teenage students did he work one on one with? You. Rogue. Who else? There wasn't anyone else...was there? At least not whilst you two were there. Now, look what's happened since he's passed on; Rogue has complete control of her skin, you've been blocked for a while but you're growing to your full ability. There are others - Wolverine for example, has found out more about himself in the last few years than he did when Xavier was hovering. There are those you have not met and I doubt you ever will meet. All will never reach their full potential because he interfered"

"Why?"

"I don't know - maybe he saw something in you that threatened his position. I don't know and we never will know, not now" She rose from her place and glanced over at the door. What was it? If I recalled she had been a telepath and I was guessing she still was, even if she had lost some of her control. "Are you expecting comapny?"

"Not really...who is it?" Now I was curious. Forcing myself to sit up, she glanced over at me before leaving the room. Who would turn up without announcing themselves? Well, I could name a few but I was as curious as her.

"I don't know. A girl I think...Marie?" She let her eyes flickered over the the opened window. The sound of a car door slamming drifted in from outside broke the silence in the room. Part of me was desperate to crawl out of the bed and see her, but another part didn't want her here. I didn't want her to see me looking like crap - I was guessing that was the reason they had me in this room instead of one of the others. This was the only room that didn't have mirrors in it yet. "Shall I ask her to leave?"

A slight sigh...no, I'd only regret it if I told her to go without speaking to her. "No. I probably need to speak to her...kinda screwed up with her couple of days ago...not spoken to her since"

"Only if you're sure...I'll leave you alone" Her voice was soft and her smile gentle.

Closing the door behind her, she left me for a few moments before opening the door again and letting a strangely covered up Marie in. She looked slightly haunted and rather jumpy, doing her best to avoid coming into contact with anyone. What had happened to her in those few short days since seeing her that she had so dramatically regressed? In her eyes, all he could see was pity for him. Did he really look that bad? Clearly.

"Hey you" She had gloves on again - O could feel the cool touch of leather ghosting over otherwise clammy skin. There was a softness to her smile that suggested she didn't really know what to say. "You look awful"

"Thanks, you don't look so hot yourself" Actually, she didn't to be honest. She glanced away, biting down on her lip like she was thinking of something, how she could word what ever was going round her head. "Marie?"

"This'll sound crazy, but I've been dreaming...well, remembering and none of it is mine. I need to know about you John. Your family, where you grew up, how your powers first showed up...I honestly thought we would've covered this whilst we were still all at the mansion, but I guess we never got round to it" There was her sad smile again and a definite sincerity to her voice. She really did want to know. I didn't want to tell her, but I knew she wasn't going to drop this.

"You sure? I don't like talking about it...but if you're already picking up on stuff then I guess it's only fair. I suppose the best place to go from is the start - not my mutation, but before that. Way before that"

_**Emma & Eric**_

"Who was it dear?"

"The girl with the stripe"

"Ah yes, Marie...I always did wonder why Xavier held her back. Still, past motives are not to be questioned. Tea?"

Smiling and with a nod, she accepted the drink passed over to her. It was a strangely pleseant affair. Those looking on would assume they were father and daughter simply enjoying the quiet in the middle of the day. No-one would realise they were both considered former terrorist mutants. Unless of course they had been obsessive over the issue. Placing the cup down, she leant back in her seat, closing her eyes for a moment before a small laugh slipped past her lips.

"What is it?"

"I think the next visitor will have a shock" Crossing one leg over the other, she looked over at the older individual who had thus far been concentrating on the daily paper.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at her smirk before returning his gaze to the paper. "Are they welcome?"

"Well, they're not expected...I think that may be why they came in through the balcony doors instead of the front one like normal people" There was a touch of amusement to her voice as she picked up her cup again, sipping at the steaming liquid.

"That isn't what I asked - are they welcome or not?" There was a touch of irritation to their voice, though they didn't look up from their task that time.

"No...they're cold, very cold. They'll break him though, leave him a shell once more. They'll shoot themselves in the foot doing so, but it'll drive him and the girl closer"

He didn't say anything, but instead returned to his drink. From the opened door came the very faint sound of someone crying somewhere in the depths of the shadowy house. It wasn't certain just who it was, but there were tears nonetheless. The house staff tided away the cooling drinks, leaving the two still in their comfortable silence. They would spend entire hours and days this way, neither of them saying more than a few words at a time but both seemingly very comfortable in each others company. Most found it strange, but it was slowly becoming more accepted behaviour.

_**Bobby**_

I'd been travelling almost non-stop ever since I left. I could've taken the jet, but that would've been just too obvious. Instead, I was currently dressed in dirtied denims and torn cottons, travelling along empty road on the motorbike I'd chosen to take from the garages. No doubt Kitty would've realised very quickly just what I was up to, though I very much doubted she'd know where i was going. No, so far I hadn't had a single problem. Actually, I'd managed to track down Marie's home and work address just for reference but as it was so close to John's, I wanted to check up on her make sure the nut case hadn't got to her and hurt her in some way. I wouldn't put it past him to try something that twisted and wrong. It was just like him, what with him being the clearly unhinged individual he was. It wasn't like he really had a good reason for it either - at least, not from what I knew. How long had I been sat outside her office? I wasn't sure. Maybe it was worth seeing if she was around though. It seemed like a nice enough place - I felt out of place in the clothes I was in. The reception was manned by a young woman, no older than twenty or twenty two. She clearly bleached her hair and her clothing was picked for style, not for what suited her.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you knew if Marie D'Ancanto was working today?"

She looked up at me, eyes slightly gazed. There was a moment of tapping as she looked over at her computer screen before letting her gaze drift back to me. "No, it's her day off. Ask Alfie if she's at home...hold on, thats him there"

She called over a rather tall individual who seemed to grumble at the mention of her. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "She gone see her beau. Go' no time fo' us no mo'"

"Who would they be?" He looked at me like I was crazy for a moment before the accent fell into place for him.

"Dat John Allerdyce. 'e's nice enough. 'ere de address - go see dem" Handing me a piece of paper, he sauntered off, headed for one of the elevators. Leaving the building, I decided I;d leave it for now and go later. After all, it wasn't like she'd ever be interested in him like that. It wasn't like I had to worry about that between them._  
_

* * *

**I must apologise for the length of time it has been since I last updated. Unfortunately, it would appear that my muse decided to take a holiday without asking me first. I really didn't want to write wihtout it becuase simply put it would be a horrible and very short chapter. However, it's back now and claiming that it has it's version of John's past and I'll start working that in. The big problem is, I habit of losing stuff when my muse isn't around so I don't actually have any of the future chapters any more which means that this is being written as it comes to me. Hopefully it doesn't affect the quality too much. N****ormally I'd flesh it out a little more and split it into two chapters, but since it's been so long I'm going to offer up the raw version. There are a few hints to just what will be in the next chapter - can you spot them?  
**

**A really big thank-you to Crazy who corrected a section of the story that would probably still be wrong if they hadn't pointed it out, and also for their continued reviews. Also, yet another thank you, this one going to kraziie for their continued reviews.**

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested. **


	9. Chapter 9

"_I have to admit, there is something that has been getting to me. We've not had a chance to talk to any of the patients here individually, or unsupervised. We have pushed for it, but as of yet we've been blocked at every opening. That was until earlier today. It would appear that the infirmary is left near enough unmanned."_

_Fading in from black, the voiceover belonged to the narrator who was stood talking to the only member of staff present in the infirmary. The room they were stood in was a plain white. White – like everything else. Clear plastic revealed other rooms and hallways – floor to ceiling, like some sort of viewing pen at a zoo. Strapped to the bed, John was the only other one in the room. His gaze was fixed on his feet and seemed to be ignoring everything else in the room._

"_So – how long have you been here for now? "_

"_Few months, maybe…I'm not sure. I haven't really been keeping track of time"_

"_And where did they pick you up, if you don't mind me asking. "_

"_It's fine, really. I uhh…I was at Alcatraz. I went back for…for a picture I think. Yeah. I have this photograph that I took a while ago with a couple of friends. I dropped it. I had to get it back. All I had left of them"_

"_Oh, I'm sorry, are they no longer with us?"_

"_Oh…they're still around. I just…I don't talk to them. Since I uhh…since I left…home. Yeah…I guess it was, or as close to. But yeah – since I left, I haven't been in touch with them. I don't blame them if they never want to see me, or hear from me, again. I said and did some really awful things. If they could ever forgive me…it's more than I could do."_

"_Could you tell us about them?"_

"_I'd rather not, if you don't mind. It's just…it still hurts, knowing that I would've hurt them through my leaving."_

"_If you had a chance to talk to them, what would you say?"_

"_I'd spend the whole time apologising and begging their forgiveness. I don't think I could do anything else."_

"_Why are you in here?"_

"_Got in a fight, got thrown across the room, cut my head open again. Concussion they think. Broken ribs for sure."_

_It was almost as if he was smiling as the scene faded out, cutting to the now familiar office filled with various professionals and the grey clad Emma delivering the tea. Shutting the laptop in front of them, they seemed less than happy. Their expression was grim._

"_From that small conversation, it's obvious that at the very least, remorse has entered his dictionary. However, I cannot allow you to ever do that again. As already stated, John is one of our more…unstable patients. If he was to react badly and no-one was around, we've no idea what he could or would do."_

"_I understand, but do you honestly think that's the only change in him? "_

"_It's more than likely - John has proven that he is an excellent actor, but he's still very prone to occasional outbursts that have cause several members of staff to leave the programme. He's also proven to be highly defensive of the ringleader, Magneto, when quizzed. All though he appears to have changed, we feel that he's actually made very little progress."_

"_So, in light of this, what is your next course of action? "_

"_We'll be returning him to stage one. It is a shame, but it's all we can do. He's certainly not fit to be around others who've made far more progress. We feel that he'd be far better off if he spends his time talking rather than in class."_

_The office faded in to a montage of various clips of footage. Those sleeping in the dorms, a few playing chess or cooking and a classroom scene, only to fade out on a shot of an empty bed in the infirmary. In the next room over, the scene of a doctor tending to a patient was slightly blurred, but it was clear even from that, that there was some sort of injection involved._

"_The more time I spend here, the more I feel like rather than helping certain mutants, this programme is holding them back to some degree. However, as we're only here on a basis to record and present, it's not my place to dig any deeper."_

_Fading from the montage to a garden scene, the grey clad 'Emma' appeared to be free of her tea duties. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, she appeared happy enough, sipping at her drink and bathing in the weak sunlight._

"_So, tell us a little about yourself."_

"_My name is Emma Frost. I was a telepath, but now I'm looking in to getting work as a sectary."_

"_How effective do you feel this programme has been?"_

"_Exceptionally effective. It's offered me opportunities that I would've never really contemplated otherwise."_

"_Would you say it works for everyone?"_

"_It is designed to offer everyone the same opportunities."_

"_Does it work though?"_

"_Yes. It is designed to work. If it didn't, it wouldn't be running."_

"_What about your friend John? It doesn't seem to be working for him."_

"_I don't know who John is. You must have the wrong Emma."_

"_You were with him in the kitchens a few days ago."_

"_I was with Mortimer. I don't know any John."_

"_Does the name Pyro mean anything to you?"_

"_Pyro is a terrorist. I would never associate myself with him. Mutants like him give the rest of us a bad name. We're not all like that."_

"_Are you sure you don't know a John Allerdyce?"_

"_I've never heard of him. Sorry."_

"_Which stage are you on now?"_

"_I'm stage three. As soon as I have a job, I'll be leaving."_

"_What about your power?"_

"_I no longer have it. When I leave, I'll continue to wear this bracelet which will suppress it."_

_Focusing on the metal band, the scene faded out to a general shot of the garden. The only ones outside were those in the grey uniforms, or those dressed in the white workers outfits. All had the same cookie cutter smile spread over their faces, all in the same uniform and, increasingly, all with similar hair styles._

"_This conversation worried me. I'll have to look in to it at a later date. Although only here to report on the events and daily routine, the conversations and interviews make me question what is going on behind closed doors."_

_**LOGAN**_

"Turn that off would you? I don't wanna hear it"

Sometimes you just can't get a break. That was my problem at the moment. No trace of the firebug in New Orleans and that damn documentary was on everywhere I went. People talking about it as if they knew the people in there, simply because they'd been watching the damn thing. They didn't know – they didn't have the first clue.

"Damn right…psychopath got enough airtime after Alcatraz. I don't wanna see any more of him."

That was the other thing that got to me. People calling John a psychopath. He might have been a cocky little sod, but he had guts. Wasn't scared to demand a little more from life. He wasn't a psychopath – he struggled was all. I don't know what with, but every single time he was brought up around Kitty, Jubilee or Storm and some negative comment was made, that last speaker would be shot. Figuratively in most cases. They'd probably actually shoot him – he could survive it though. He already managed it once.

I wasn't supposed to know shit, but sometimes, you just can't help overhearing this stuff. Muttering in their sleep, shouting matches with the professor…or Scott. He'd never liked Scott all that much.

"John's no psychopath," Sipping at the beer, I shot a look over at the speaker. Yeah – I could take them if I had to. "Messy, a little out of it…but he's no psychopath. Kid's different. Doesn't make him dangerous."

"Oh, I guess you know him personally then?" Judging from the way the stood up and left their drink behind, I would say they were just desperate for a fight.

"Thought I did…kid's been through shit you can't even begin to understand. He doesn't need small-minded punks like you making life hard for him." I thought I'd made my point. Apparently not – guy decides to get up in my face and start demanding answers.

"Like he didn't make life hard for other people. Come on then, how do you know and what do you know? Bound to come up on here at some point, right?"

He had a point.

_**STORM, KITTY & JUBILEE**_

"Kitty? Are we ready to go yet?" We were running late. They'd talked me in to joining them in their little trip to Mississippi, and here I found myself.

It meant we'd had to call in extra help, but those lending themselves to us hadn't minded that much. They were happy – most of them wanted a chance to go see Rogue, but as they couldn't, anything to get someone to see her. Well, someone other than Logan.

"Almost…Jubilee just has to finish packing a couple of bits." She appeared to be just a touch overloaded with bags. Mostly Christmas related items if my eyes were not deceiving me in my old age.

"Well, if it's Jubilee we're waiting on, we could be a while." There would be a smile in my voice, even if I managed to keep a straight face.

A look crossed Kitty's face as she packed her bags in to the car. I had a feeling I knew what was coming. These questions come more often since the documentary started – part of me cursed it, but at the same time it meant they were talking about him. John's name had hardly been mentioned since Alcatraz. No – in fact, he had been mentioned since he'd left with Magneto. I knew so many were still so very hurt over his choice and most didn't understand. I struggled to understand some days, but it was good to talk. If it wasn't talked about, nothing would ever really be figured out.

"Why did he leave?" I knew who she meant. Why did John leave? It was a good question.

"I don't know Kitty. I suppose he felt he didn't fit in." That look crossed her face as she turned her attention to clipping the seatbelt in to place.

"None of us fit in, that's why we came here in the fort place. Our families go from loving us to not wanting us overnight. It's why we stick together. It's why we had the institute, right? I mean….surely he understands that." So, apparently he hadn't told her half a much as I thought he had. Maybe no-one really knew the whole truth. Except, maybe the professor. Sighing, I let my head drop backwards as the backseat opened and Jubilee climbed in.

"To understand that Kitty, his family had to love and want him in the first place." It was Jubilee who answered her question. I was secretly glad that she had.

"I don't understand." There was genuine confusion in her voice. How did you reply to that?

"Storm and I will explain on the way down. We're running behind as it is."

_**MOIRA & XAVIER**_

"Oh, this silly documentary. I don't know why I put it on. It upsets me to hear and see the way they treated the poor lad." Shaking my head, I filed several sheets away and turned my attention back to the machines bleeping and flashing away to themselves.

_It's even worse when you know the whole truth Moira._

"I do wish I knew everything, but I suppose they say ignorance is bliss for a reason. I have a few friends who knew John. They only ever hinted, but oh, it just sounded so…awful. Poor lad, poor lad…" I knew so little, but it still broke my heart to hear and see how they were treated.

Strapping him to a bed….whatever next. The sick were supposed to be treated with love, respect and decency. Not tied down and left to their own devices. I found it sickening that this…this place had been allowed to operate for so long. And the way the patients were turning out. Clones – every single last one of them were turning in to mindless clones.

_It seems odd that Miss Frost has no recollection of John. Her memory is normally excellent._

"You know, I had this telepathic friend…it seems silly, but I wonder if he knew Emma at all. Highly unlikely, I know…but there's always that chance." I really couldn't see much more that I had to do. The paperwork was, oddly, up to date and in place. Test results had come through on time…it was all so very odd.

We'd decided that he'd wait, but it would appear that he'd be needed sooner than first suspected. I knew deep down that those still at the institute would be searching for John already. For all I knew, they'd already found him. Still, if that was the case, I'd have heard about it by now already, wouldn't I?

_Oh, I know Miss Frost rather well. She was one of my earlier students. I suppose if I'm to wake earlier that first intended to help with this search, then you deserve to know the truth about St John Allerdyce._

**_ERIC & EMMA_**

"It seems odd that there's so much evidence that I know John, seemingly rather well, and yet there is so little of it that I can access" She was sipping at her tea, staring at the saucer. She was genuinely curious, which was odd for Emma.

"The human mind is a wonderful thing Emma – you should know this better than I. However, sometimes it is far too easy to confound. I believe they may well have been continually drugging you." Just how, I had no idea – but it was the only thing that really made sense. Well, that or they were using a telepath of their own. No – they wouldn't do that…would they?

Silence fell between us again. I had a feeling I knew what was on her mind. John – a subject on so very many peoples minds at the time. That very faint sobbing had stopped at some point. I wasn't going to pry, but I had a feeling he'd probably finally let her in. I could only hope he'd really let her in. The last few years had changed me, I'd admit that. I was no longer quite as proud or cold. Being stripped of your power tends to strip you of what you were.

"They'd make quite a sweet couple, don't you think?" Now, that was the last sentence I expected from her. I presume she meant Marie and John, but one could never tell with her. She was back to playing a strand of hair and setting her tea down to one side.

"They're both far too fiery. They're both much too passionate and headstrong. It wouldn't last very long at all." No – I couldn't accept that. Still…she was rather good. Placing the tea down, I couldn't help but look over at the end of the house. That balcony door was open. It'd have to be shut before too long.

"No, but it would be fun." She had that smirk on her face when I looked over. Ahh – she was playing, was she? I should've expected it from her.

"What can you tell me about his past? I'm curious. So many people jump to his defence, and yet…so few talk about it."

I probably should've seen this conversation coming. I knew some of it – not all. I knew enough though to not want to talk about it. True, he'd hardly lived through a holocaust…but his tragedy was a different one.

**_HER & HIM_**

This wasn't good. I could look on all I wanted, but no matter where I turned it was no good. They were gone – no chance of turning this back. Damage had been done and we'd have to live with it.

"Shut it down Jasper, there's nothing we can do." Standing up, I left the small set-up and the person manning it.

We'd been watching him for a while. We knew what was going on and we knew we were too late to stop it. Eric certainly wasn't helping matters. He was near enough pushing them together. I don't believe he was doing so intentionally, but Emma could see what he could not.

Light danced over the broken tiles, oddly lighting the room we stood in. It'd been abandoned long ago and we really had no choice in the matter. It was free, quiet and no-one came here any more. They had no need to. The brotherhood was dead…or so the media claimed. Oh, they were alive and kicking. Just better organised, more underground. They were fighters rather than a rabble. Humans would feel the blow we all had.

"Are we going to bed then, Juliette?" They asked it simply, innocently almost. They'd never grown up. Smile on my face, I looked over. They had a point.

"Yes…we have an early start in the morning. We need to get to Mississippi." Draping the jacket I'd been wearing over a chair, I joined them in the make-shift sleeping area.

My only prayer that night was that one of them reached dear John before it was too late. That, and that Callisto would stop snoring, even if only for one night.

* * *

**I know this is a short chapter compared to the others I've written, but John's history will come up in the next chapter. That, and I needed a chance to introduce these 2 OC characters. I would also like to apologise for my hiatus. I don't really have a reason, I just haven't been writing. I am trying to get back to it though.**

**Crazy4horses – I would like to thank you not only for the constructive criticism you've offered up before now, but your consistency in returning to review the chapters. It is appreciated greatly, and if I could I would send you a thank-you cookie.**

**Eclipse75 – Thank-you so much for the review. It's wonderful to read that someone feels this way. I promise to return to posting.**

**xXxJessikaxXx – I didn't update quite as soon as I intended, however I will be. I'm glad you like John…I think he's rather under-rated so far as characters go.**

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine, save for the 2 OC's. Most of them belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested**


	10. Chapter 10

**MOIRA & XAVIER**

"John was not a welcome child - from a young age, he was obviously different to other members of his family. He was born in Australia in to a family of surfers. Cliché perhaps, but it was how things were. His parents were professional surfers and both siblings near prodigy. He on the other hand...he was scared of the water. He would rather sit out with those looking on than swim. I think it was probably his siblings allowing him to watch Jaws as a toddler. It was probably one of the few times they were around him - he was far younger than them and so more a source of annoyance than anything else."

"His parents did not start out as in any way abusive. For the first few years he could do no wrong. After all, all children had a little reservation when it came to water. His aversion though did not fade as he grew older. He became a tag along - the mascot left on the beach for his curls and bright smile. He was a happy child...but it wasn't to last."

"They grew impatient with him and started leaving him behind, or with friends and relatives scattered around where they went. He was a child - no more than three when he was first left. He remembers being shut in a room for the three days he was there. It happened time and again...every time they left him, he was shut away whilst the world went on without him. It didn't work when they had to go out the country though. They couldn't leave him without losing him."

"At least they cared enough to not abandon him."

"Did they? You see...the international circuits carried too much pull. He was still young when they started to travel – no more than five, maybe six years old. He was left with his siblings when they weren't surfing, and near strangers watching on the beaches when there was no-one else. He learnt to look after himself, simply because there was no-one else. His siblings would leave him behind if he couldn't keep up, or sometimes simply leave...they didn't want him around, he was a source of annoyance after all. The child that couldn't and wouldn't surf, tagged along to sit around and watch, stole the limelight when he was around."

"It sounds like a normal sibling jealousy"

"Yes, but they would take it too far. Jealousy should never include abandoning the youngest. It should never include purposely humiliating them. It should never include trying to drown them. It should never include locking them in a room and leaving them there. They abandoned him and returned to Sydney without him. He would have been seen as an illegal immigrant had he made himself known to any sort of authority."

"Why did they abandon him?"

"Because his powers emerged. He was still so young – he was ten when they first showed. For four years, he'd been dragged around and left in one place or another with people he hardly knew. Regularly beaten by the eldest of his siblings – a sister. He never did disclose her name...and I wasn't going to push him for it. She was the first to be scarred though – a hand print on her shoulder blade. He was angry with her and had enough of the beatings. He had had enough of being abandoned and ignored. Treated like a plaything. When his parents found out though..."

"They didn't take too kindly to it, did they?"

"No Moira. Unfortunately not. Though, maybe it was fortunate – he had not been in that one place for so long, we may never have found him. I remember coming across him for the first time. No child should have been in the state he was. Fourteen and already far beyond his years. Forced to beg and steal for survival. You saw it in his eyes...there were other acts he was forced in to. Other acts he could not and would not admit to himself, let alone anyone else. They haunted him...even now I feel they still have a hold over him. He didn't trust when he first came to the institute. He wouldn't eat at the same time as the other students. He wouldn't accept anything offered to him. He was, and still is to some degree, paranoid that it would only hurt him to accept them. I am so sure he was abused...but he would never open up when asked about those years he spent running. He would shut up and refuse to talk any more. The first time I pushed him...he lost his temper. He lost control and sparked a small fire within the office – small, but it spread quickly. He put us both in danger. I knew then he wasn't ready to tell me everything."

"You mentioned to me once that these sessions...you kept hold of his lighter. How did he..."

"After the first reaction, I placed a block within his mind. It was to stay there until he was calmer. For his own good and for those around him. He broke down after the first incident...said he didn't want it any more. He wanted it to no longer be a part of who he was. So, for the sake of his own mind and the safety of those around him I-"

"You shackled him."

"Not quite Moira. Of course, this is only what he's told me, and only brief. I would not delve any further than I was wanted, and I do believe you're nearly ready for our departure, are you not?"

Something didn't quite add up, but then again...it had been an odd day. For example, the first sight to meet her eyes was an empty bed. She had, at first panicked...assumed the worst. However, she was proven otherwise at the sound of his voice. And his insistence on leaving for Mississippi as soon as they were able to. Something about an emergency. He hadn't been too specific. He was still not using his physical voice, still in a wheelchair...but that would be down to such a long disuse. She just couldn't understand why he was so insistent, didn't get why it couldn't wait another few days. Still...it wasn't really like she could say no to him. She could try, but he'd always win out in the end.

**LOGAN**

"Kid was always angry, but not dangerous. Not really. Stupid, a little reckless, trouble magnet. Could go on, but he wasn't dangerous. I would never put dangerous on that list." Pausing, I sipped at my drink, aware that the pool cues were going down and the TV was being ignored. Turned down, even. The screen flickered away with it's lies – happy, healthy kids. Brainwashed and restrained. I hated it...did these people not have hearts? Did they not understand the desperate inner need to be free? In the long run, those kids would suffer under that regime.

"John was...troubled. You could tell by the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he'd keep it zipped...damaged I guess. He had a habit of over reacting. He had problems with authority figures. He hated people mothering him. He hated people pushing him for...anything. He hated relying on people. I think he generally hated people." There was a slight chuckle to his voice. Yeah, firebug was troubled all right. Hot headed and wild in most peoples eyes – they just didn't know how to handle someone who reacted like that. Storm won him over in the end...took her a long time, but he caved and would occasionally let her comfort him when he was sure no-one was looking. Just like any other teen really.

"Kid didn't open up easy, but I still heard. He wasn't the quietest of sleepers. He had a lot of nightmares when he did sleep...not that he slept all that often. Spent most nights up staring at the walls, playing with that zippo. Gets on your nerves at first, but you learn to tune it out over time. You could hear...he'd toss about and not settle. He'd mutter and talk. Maybe cry, beg for it to end...whatever the hell it was. He'd sleepwalk at the worst of times." There was a snort from one person – I was sure I knew what they were thinking. I didn't need to be the professor to know people in the bar thought I was either bullshitting or exaggerating.

"When he was awake after those nights, he'd look worn down. He spent days not eating. He wouldn't concentrate, but he wouldn't play up either. He was almost subdued...you just couldn't play rough. He'd flip out and throw anything he could at you. If you were unlucky, you'd get burned. You knew when he wasn't good though - it was etched in to him. His eyes were empty and he would age maybe ten years. You could hardly touch him. He sure as hell ain't had life easy...and with people like you, it ain't improving." Draining the last of my drink, I pushed the glass to one side and slid my jacket on, only to pause when interrupted by the first person who'd interjected. Person who'd started this whole thing.

"And that makes it all OK? What he did?" Anger in their voice. Anger and accusation. Nah, he had screwed up...but truth be told, everyone knew that. But unlike this lot, from what I had seen and heard lately, John was trying to change things. This lot though, they were almost too happy to dwell in the past. Almost too happy to be angry with Firebug. It was almost like they didn't care who they were angry with, so long as they were angry with someone for something. Anything.

"No...but he don't need to be punished any more for it. Don't judge when you don't know shit." Freeing the collar from it's self, I tugged on the sleeves one that time and shot one last glare at the speaker before leaving. I had to get to that damn Firebug, and there was one last place I hadn't thought of trying – kid was bound to have found him by now. She had a habit of ending up in the same place as him. Besides, it'd been a while since I'd seen her, what with Christmas coming up fast, seemed like pretty perfect timing. Besides, if she wasn't at her apartment, I could always track her. Sure, it mean breaking a speed limit or two on the way, but it would be worth it. It'd been too long and I'd been stuck in this bar too long.

**KITTY, STORM & JUBILEE**

"After Alcatraz, he was taken to this facility. This documentary...it doesn't show anything. Not what really went on behind closed doors. Didn't follow them after their release. God, that place scarred him just as badly...your heart feels like it'll break when you hear everything. They beat him there. Beat him, chained him up, drugged him. Threatened his life if he didn't start conforming." Jubilee spoke first, staring in to her lap and wringing her hands – as much as she hated what he had done, as much as she thought he was an ass...you just couldn't help but sympathise when you knew what he'd been through.

Silence in the car would have killed most people, but it seemed fitting. True, it was tense...but it was right. Emotions always seemed to run high when you reflected on this story. So few knew it, which probably made it all the more potent. The darkness faded and light flooded the seating area – when this topic came up, the decision was made...they just had to switch to the jet. First off, it would save time. Secondly, it would be quicker. Plus, you didn't get autopilot with cars. Gods knew it would be needed this time travelling down there.

"After his release, he found his way back to New York. It was school holidays, so the students weren't at the institute...most others were off doing one thing or another. Visiting friends, gone for a picnic, out shopping...normal day to day things. I got a call from the ER room at one of the local hospitals. They'd found him. He had...oh God, he'd..." I could feel the crack in my voice, thought it should have been expected...this always happened when I dwelt on it for too long. Dropping my head, I wished I could erase the images from my head.

I should have been there...I should have been able to help him. I never should have let him go for so long. Anyone could have seen it coming. I know Jean would have never forgiven herself, and the Professor would have felt the same pain, even if he never spoke of it. Despite what other may have felt, the three of us...those who found him first...we knew. And we would never forget that small bundle of fear...all skin and bones. When you had seen him like that, you could never fear him, nor could you hate him. Well, not really.

"You got to his apartment and there was blood...everywhere. Blood and drink. No food, just alcohol filling his cupboards. Alcohol and pills. He'd changed so much. He said it kept things quiet – kept the wrong thoughts from his mind. Better a hopeless drunk cutter than a murderous bastard, in his words. He was so skinny, I didn't know how he'd made it that far without getting really sick. Some of the nurses had refused to treat him, because they knew his face. Others because of the other scars...said something about treating self harmers as a waste of time and money. He would have died if Dr McCoy hadn't been visiting...you could see, in his eyes. He was..." She was struggling – like myself, Jubliee just couldn't find the words to describe how he had been that day. He sat and almost rocked himself back and forth. They were faint movements, like those of a man verging on madness. He had sat and stared at walls the entire time he had been in the mansion. He hadn't fought against any attempt to help him, but he hadn't done anything to aid the treatment either. How did you describe that?

"He was empty. Right?" It was the first time Kitty had said anything, and you could hear the guilt in her voice. Guilt that she'd been so quick to jump to conclusions. Guilt that she hadn't paid greater attention to him. Guilt that she had been so very angry with him.

"Yeah...he was empty. No, not quite empty. But...he wasn't John. He wasn't Pyro either. It was terrifying though. Whatever he'd become, we didn't know how to deal with him. The professor might have been able to reach him. Or, maybe Jean...but he was beyond us. And we did try...dear god we tried. For a good week or two, we pushed him for some sort of response. Hell, I think we would've been happy even if he had to burn the place down – at least then we would have known where we'd stood." Oh yes, how I remember that. Jubilee clearly remembered it just as well as I did. It had been hard seeing him like that – true, it wasn't the first time...but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"It wasn't the first time he'd tried. There were scars on his arms already. Oh god...so many scars. All of them looked so deep and so angry. He wouldn't even look at me when I spoke to him. He just kept on staring at the wall in front of him. I begged him to stay...begged him to come back to the institute and stay this time. I swore blind no-one would judge him. No-one would hate him. I swore we'd help him. But...he wouldn't. He said he couldn't stay, not after what he'd done. Said no-one would want him there and that he didn't blame them for it...all that hate, turned inwards. All that open condemnation...he said he'd had enough of it. He didn't want any more. All he wanted was a quiet life...but you know John. He never did anything quietly." Was that a chuckle? Yes...only a slight one, but I just could not help myself. He'd always been so impatient and wild, just like the fire he controlled.

No, and that is what had concerned me the most. John didn't like silence...John didn't like quiet. He liked noise and chaos – it kept his mind focused on anything but himself. It was why he had excelled beyond any and all expectation in danger room sessions, and it was most likely the reason, or one of the reasons, why he'd opted to join the brotherhood. Rather than sitting back and waiting for the fight to come to him, he'd go looking for the fight.

"He spoke of how his past was repeating itself. This hell would end, only to be replaced with a cage, the cage would go and he'd fall again. He said he didn't want it. He didn't want to go through it all again. He didn't want that any more. He didn't want to be hurt, and he didn't want to hurt anyone. He just wanted it all to go away. He wanted to sleep and never have to wake up again...because he was safe that way. He was safe and everyone else was safe from him. He really had come to view himself as some sort of monster. He was convinced there was no helping him...better to strip him of it all." There was a sadness in her voice as she went back wringing her hands and picking at her jeans. Jubilee had been so horrified at his comment. At first she hadn't really understood – but then again, she had viewed the institute as a new chance rather than a final option. She hadn't known the hurt he had. She hadn't hurt anyone quite as much as she had. She hadn't been through hell – not next to John. Sure, things hadn't been easy after her parents passed away...but at least they'd loved her. At least she'd been wanted.

"I don't..." Kitty didn't need to finish – none of us had understood at first. None of us wanted to understand, because it just wasn't the John we knew and loved. Her voice gave away her confusion...the same confusion we'd all experienced when he first admitted it to us.

He'd been so weak, so unable to cope with his ability. As the cure started to fade from his system, he grew sick. It was almost like watching a junkie going in to withdrawal, and as much as I hated to think about it, that was probably exactly what it was. He'd begged and pleaded to find it. He'd insisted he'd die without it. Days he spent in tears, clawing at sheets, tossing and turning. He lost far too much weight in that time – not that he'd had much to him in the first place. He was genuinely sick. Unable to keep down even liquids, he ended up on drips in some desperate attempt to stop him from slipping away from us. Eventually though, the toll grew too much and Hank agreed to it – for his own good. There was still too much in the way of the psychological need for it...in all honesty, looking back, it was easy to see that he had been an addict.

"This clinic...they'd talked him in to taking the cure he so hated. They had him broken and running scared from what he was. Even if he couldn't admit it, most everyone who saw him knew the truth. That look in his eyes...there was no denying it." Jubilee...my word, she sounded broken, just at the thought of seeing his pain. I could only hope and pray that somehow he'd be OK and get over it. That somehow, he was ready for this.

"If he doesn't want any of this, then why are we going to see him? I mean, I know we're going to see Rogue as well, but..." It was a fair question – she didn't know. She hadn't been in the room during those discussions. She didn't know what they did.

"Because Erik has concerns...there has been an information leak – they've changed the make-up of the cure. It's not a suppressant any more. It's a poison. They plan on killing them off, one by one. Why do you think so many from the clinic have vanished already? Some dead, others in asylums. Erik has sworn blind that he can get through to John, if we can find him. He's done it once already – a young mutant by the name of Emma. He tried to get to others...to protect them, but he's lost so many already. Those he's known and taken under his wing...worked to help and protect." I knew that pain – the pain of losing those who had wormed their way in to your heart and just wouldn't let go.

"And you're going to let him near John? Thinking on everything that's just been said. Doesn't that seem a little crazy?" Had Kitty not been listening? After all that had just been said...was she still so hesitant? They needed

"Maybe...but I'd sooner have John rejoin the brotherhood than dead. At least that way we have a chance of bringing him back on side. How are we supposed to do that if he's already dead?" Silence...well, that had put her in her place, but Jubilee had a point. Better the enemy than dead.

**JOHN & MARIE**

"They just...they didn't want me. They never wanted me. I meant nothing to them, and then for me to be this...this freak. It was just..." Burying his head in his hands, a shudder in his shoulders was the only evidence of where he was going. "They couldn't take it. They didn't want me. And then there was Xavier's...it was just..."

What was I supposed to do? Hesitating for a moment, I patted his shoulder before reaching over and pulling him in to a hug. Most others I would have been able to deal with so far as tears went, but this was _Pyro_. He wasn't supposed to cry, he was supposed to scold me for being so silly and crying over something petty. He was supposed to be full of fire and life...not this hopeless defeated shell of a man at my side. He wasn't supposed to be the one desperately seeking comfort from another. He was supposed to spurn Me and make me feel two inches tall, after all that was what Pyro did. Pyro hated what I was...but then again, he wasn't really Pyro any more, was he?

Yeah, that's right...this was John, and I wasn't sure how to deal with John. Not any more at least.

Burying his head in to my neck, his arm snaked around her waist, dragging me closer and molding my body to his. Maybe it was a little forward of him...so why didn't I react against it? Reject him like he would me were the roles reversed. Though the shaking was less and his sobs quieter, My neck was growing wetter with each tiny strand of time that he remained that way. In all the years that I had known him, I had never known John to be this vulnerable...not without that angry front of his. Well, angry or cocky. Both if you were unlucky.

I didn't expect his next move though; his lips sought out mine, nose still wet brushing over my cheek. Locking down, his grip around my waist tightened and the pressure built. Part of me wanted to stop it, to let him get his head right...but he was so insistent...so urgent and hungry. Passionate. So very sweet, but with something hinting at the choking smoke of fire. It wasn't like the chill of Bobby...it was smoother, headier. And for some insane, unknown reason I wanted more. So much more. I wanted that searing taste to remain there for as long as I was awake. I knew wanted this...dear God did I ever want it. There was no denying how my body was reacting. Those demands...pushing my blood to a boiling point...my heart was racing and the pressure changed, driving me in to the bed and away from sensibility.

God knew this was needed.

* * *

**And after a long time away, I am back! Life got crazy...sorry about that. I can't even explain why it got so crazy so quickly. I think this is probably my twelfth attempt at sitting down, just to finish off a few paragraphs here and there so I could post it. But, I think I got my rhythm back down now. I might be able to get a new chapter up every other week, if not every week. You shouldn't have to wait nearly 6 months ever again.**

**Crazy4horses – I did look in to it, and it's a wonderful series...I just struggle to find any of the books where I live. Seriously...I need to move.**

**Maiqu – Awesome! Have a cookie. Unfortunately, I only have the slightly burned vegan ones I made earlier for a friend. They're still chocolate chip though...and it's only the very edge that's burned, I swear!**

**I own nothing, those right belong to all respective companies; characters, locations etc. None of them are mine, save for the few OC's who have started popping up. The remaining characters belong to Marvel and so I would simply never be able to afford to buy them.**

**This remains unbetaed so all mistakes are a result of me not paying enough attention whilst proof reading. I am still looking for a beta, please feel free to volunteer either yourself or suggest this to someone if you think they might be interested**


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